Spring can be an especially hard season for the bereaved.
After my dad died, the transition from winter to spring was one of the most unexpectedly difficult parts of my “year of firsts’” Life around me bloomed with sunshine, buds, and bird calls—loud reminders that the world was moving forward, while I was stuck in sorrow.
There is no greater indication that life is moving forward than the landscape coming alive with sunshine, buds, and bird calls. Spring’s warmth infuses the general public with happiness and smiles. But back in 2004, the hopeful weather was the antithesis of my mood. I would have gladly stayed in winter for the whole year, but spring arrived anyway, pushing me into a world that felt unfamiliar and unwelcome.
Me and my dad (I'm on the left)
Spring also holds Sibling's Day (yes, it's a thing!), Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Of my 41 Father’s Days, I have now been fatherless for 22 of them. That particular Sunday in June no longer feels like a spotlight highlighting my father’s short life and my half-orphan status, but I struggled with Father’s day, and other holidays/anniversaries for the first 5-7 years after my dad’s death.
As a kid, I found Father’s Day to be more of a nuisance than a celebration (my dad was born on June 27, and I was always at a loss on how to celebrate these two occasions so close together).
Now I want to yell at that whiny child with tangled hair and stained sweatsuits, because I now know how lucky I was to have a person to celebrate.
At the time, I hadn’t learned that celebrating your parent doesn’t mean buying them things they don’t want. My poor dad ended up with a series of BBQ utensils that came in a fancy case, a 3" plastic trophy that said ‘World’s Greatest Dad’, a series of cards with ties on them, and a black mug with orange lettering that read, "Dad is always right." And then in smaller letters at the bottom, "(except when he disagrees with mom)." I didn’t notice the ‘mom’ part on the mug until the night before Father’s Day. I gave it to him anyway, hoping he wouldn’t notice (he did)
If you are newly missing your child, mom, dad, stepparent, or parental figure, these two days of celebration can be stabbing daggers.
Marketing materials celebrating the child-parent relationship are everywhere — written on the classy and colorful balloons-on-a-stick at the supermarket checkout, floral arrangements advertised on radio, or restaurants with big window signs, encouraging you to make reservations for Sunday brunch.
Perfectly posed and artificially highlighted parent-child photos bombard our social media feeds.
Illustration Credit: Mari Andrew
You are not alone if you are dreading these holidays. When miscarriage and stillbirths are included, 19% of adults have experienced the death of a child (excluding miscarriage and stillbirth, that number changes to about 10%). For children under 18, 2% have lost one or both parents. Anywhere between 22-30% of college aged young-adults are within a year of a significant loss (parent, sibling, or grandparent). There are a lot of people hurting.
7 Tips for Managing Trigger Days
Like clockwork, my body responds to the calendar, even when I try to convince myself that a particular trigger day won't bother me this year. I have found that there are things that I can do to help ease the stress of birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. There are also reassurances I give myself to help me remember why I’m feeling what I’m feeling, and that these feelings are absolutely reasonable. Here is what I have learned from 21 years of trigger days:
Tip 1: Anxiety
My first tip is not actually a tip but an acknowledgement. The anxiety leading up to the day is almost always worse than the day itself. This, of course, doesn’t help in the days leading up to the day when your anxiety is in the red zone, but it most certainly can be helpful to know that the terrible feelings won’t necessarily explode on the second Sunday of May or the third Sunday in June.
I often feel a release of tension and anxiety when the day concludes. Grief comes in waves, and the build up is part of the experience.
Tip 2: Plan something to look forward to
Can you get away that weekend? Do you have someone in your network with a similar loss? Could you get together with them on Saturday (specifically not on Sunday in a place where you might see families out celebrating).
My family has historically traveled on my sister's death anniversary — we coordinate our annual intergenerational family vacation to coincide with the worst day. We've also kept our plans much more low key. One year we went to Sky Zone, another we went for a bike ride. Sure, these aren’t dream destinations/activities, but they were fun and it helped me and my family get through the 24 hours we were dreading.
Do you want to paint pottery? See Roller Derby? Eat at a food truck? Build a fort out of cardboard and paint it in neon colors? Watch comfort TV on Netflix? Do whatever might bring you lightness (but be sure to keep it legal).
Tip 3: Stay off social media
It’s best not to even bother — you will be seeing a lot of posts from others celebrating their parents or children. Maturity and reason should tell us that it is not a personal attack when a friend or relative posts a photo with their beloved mother, but it certainly feels like a sucker punch to the gut.
I admit that I used to think it was reasonable to expect everyone keep their joy hidden behind closed doors so I wouldn't have to see it.
If you’re like me and staying off social media is hard because you love the drama in your neighborhood Facebook group (and don’t want to miss the never ending complaints on errant sidewalk dog poop and gas-powered mowers starting too early in the morning on a Saturday), consider unfollowing/silencing anyone who is triggering (or everyone).
This gives you the benefit of not seeing happy photos when you’re not feeling up to it. You can always re-follow in the future and your buddies are none the wiser. I unfollowed everyone (that’s right — every. single. person.) after my sister’s death and it really helped. Unfollowing is pretty liberating.
Tip 4: Pass along kindness
Every year, on the anniversary of my dad’s death, I do an act of kindness (usually related to the food-service industry). One year I gifted a meal delivery box from a local restaurant to a randomly selected neighbor in my local Buy Nothing group to celebrate the super bowl (football was the only sport my dad followed). Overly detailed screen shot below.
Sometimes I tip 100%. I am frugal by nature, but my dad was extremely generous. After adding the tip, I write a note for the server with a little info about my dad. Sometimes doing something for someone else can bring you the feel-good feelings you’re searching for.
Perhaps on that Sunday you want to volunteer, donate blood, pick up trash, or leave $20 on a park bench. Kindness tends to magnify when you are enveloped in sadness, and doing so might give you just what you need on a really hard day.
Tip 5: Embrace your anger
It is ok to be angry. Really angry. Do not feel guilty about being angry. It is unfair and not right that you are missing your family member. I’m so sorry, I wish they were here with you.
Anger + Grief = Angrief
Tip 6: Tell people what you need
In 2018, the first Mother’s Day without my sister happened to fall on my birthday. Not only was it the first year where I wasn’t conspiring with her on Mother’s Day plans or just having my sibling with my family as we celebrated our mutual parent-child relationship, but it was also the first time I aged up while she remained at 37.
It was very hard for me to get texts from people that only spoke to the superficial joy of the day. “Happy Birthday!🎂🤸🏻♀️👑” or “Happy Mother’s Day!🥇🌸🌼👩👧” There was no happiness on that day, and these messages alienated me from my friends and family.
I chose to not respond to those celebratory texts, but in retrospect, I wish I had used social media to make a post a few days before. Something like, “This weekend will be hard without Alison. I ask that you take a moment to think of her on Sunday.”
There is a huge disconnect in our grief culture, and the burden of teaching almost always falls on the bereaved.
It is totally understandable why someone in the throes of grief would have no interest in or energy to tell people what they want, but at the same time, we can’t expect people to know what we need if we don’t tell them.
Think of what you might need or want from people, and put it out there a few days in advance. Perhaps you’d like your friends who knew your mom to toast her on Mother’s Day, or you share your dad’s favorite meal in case anyone might like to think of your dad the next time they enjoy it. Maybe your son loved a particular playground and you request family and friends to consider making that destination a part of their Father’s Day celebrations.
Tip 7: Find Community
You may not have friends or peers in your community with similar losses, but they are out there. Now it is easier than ever to find an online group of people who have a similar story to your own.
Connecting with these people, though they may be strangers, can bring an enormous sense of comfort. I didn't even know Sibling's Day was a thing until my sister died. I loved this post where many surviving siblings shared beloved memories of their sisters and brothers. Reading and learning about other people’s losses helps me feel less alone.
I tend to lean towards more untraditional ways of honoring my dad and sister, but there are certainly endless ways to incorporate your beloved people on trigger days.
Visiting the cemetery or the place where their ashes were scattered, attending a service, leaving a chair open for them at the table, giving a toast...the possibilities are endless. Do what feels right. It is also totally reasonable to pretend the day isn’t happening and treat it like any old day.
What works for some won’t work for everyone else. But what works for me may work for you. I hope that you find something that makes the day just a little easier.
For Children Missing Parents
Kate Spencer’s take on making Mother’s Day your own
Losing a mother and a pregnancy
Being a motherless mother
Molly Rosen Guy’s piece in on her dad dying while she was divorcing
Read through past stories written by people around the world who are missing their parents
A beautiful short by a son about his father
What's Your Grief's Mother's/Father's Day archives
Our Parent Loss resource page
For Parents Missing Children
A mother’s words on her first mother’s day without her daughter and she also writes more on the first spring after Ana’s death
My daughter died but I am still mothering her.
Compassionate Friends support groups - both online and in person
Words on parent loss & child loss
Listen to Colin about Ruby and Hart (and his book is wonderful)
And List to Jayson about Ruby (and his book is also wonderful)
We also host a parent's resource page and another for prenatal loss
For Widows and Widowers
"Yes, You Should Binge-Watch Netflix Alone on Mother’s Day," says Nora McInerny
Father’s day from a widow’s perspective
Our Partner Loss resource page
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