I go into this day every year with low expectations. Maybe that’s part of the problem, maybe January 25th is now what causes the anxiety in me. If at any point throughout the year you mention January 25th, I stop, take a deep breath and think about that one particular day, usually so quickly that you miss it. For the last 16 years January 25th has represented the day that my Grandfather died. It doesn’t really make sense in my head that it’s been 16 years, in some ways I’ve lived an entire life in that time and in others it feels like yesterday. At the age of 15 having someone close to you die was pretty traumatic, he passed, at home in a hospital bed after a long fight with emphysema. It was his time.
Looking back, it isn’t really what happened on January 25th that I remember. Its everything that followed. The stress and long days that come after someone is gone. It seems pretty barbaric if you think about it. Family spending, what seems like, countless hours in nice clothes having to relive their loss with each conversation and visitor. You’re thankful for their love and for taking the time to see them, but it’s awkward just the same. When my Grandmother died a few years ago she didn’t want any ceremony or gathering. She didn’t want a fuss made about her being gone. After a couple of months in Hospice she passed. After saying goodbye, my family went out for coney dogs in her honor. We shared stories, laughed, cried a little, and parted ways. It didn’t make losing her any easier but it was nice to celebrate her how she would have wanted. May 1st is also not my favorite day.
It’s been 16 years and this day still seems strange. It’s not as bad as it used to be, I have high hopes for January 25, 2016 but he will be in the back of my mind all day. Maybe he’ll make me laugh as I go through a usually Monday.
Here’s to laughing and celebrating those that we’ve lost, even 16 years later.