It’s just a date.

I remember talking and remencising with my friend about a holiday we took to Egypt. We sat and laughed about all the memories we made; not once did we recall the date we travelled because the significance didn’t lie in the dates but rather the stories. The stories were important. I feel like I’ve spent a majority of my life living off of memories and stories — the only dates I would remember were birthdays as we all remember birthdays, especially our own. Even in remembering a birthday, it was never about the date but rather the memories I created with that person on that specific date.

However, all that changed in 2017 and suddenly I understood the importance of dates.

I hadn’t lost anyone I was close to until then and whilst I knew death existed, I guess I was ignorant in thinking you only die when you get old; I honestly thought everyone around me would live until at least 70 or 80 years old, if I was lucky. Samuel was my first close-to-home death and it really crushed me.

When you lose someone you love, you’re stuck questioning Why they had to go? What was God doing? & Why does death even happen? For me, losing a partner at such a young age had me thinking about my future; whether someone new will be able to deal with the baggage and trauma I carry; the judgement and pity stories; and most importantly, if I’ll have to erase all of the memories and significant dates from my life to truly be happy again.

The first year was the hardest. I felt empty every, single, day. No matter what I did. Everything reminded me of a fond memory, literally. I could be eating, going to the shops or even just walking home and I would relive a moment we shared together doing just that. After two years it started to get easier, there were less tears, more smiles and I guess more moments to celebrate, which in turn meant new memories. It’s weird because life continues no matter how much you want to cling to a moment, memory or date. You speak about the pain less and although you may reminisce, you laugh more about the good times and memories. You most definitely haven’t forgotten about the person, but you get better with suppressing and dealing with the pain. It sounds bad but it’s the only way to move on. It’s the only way you’re able to crack a smile and continue this thing called life.

However, every year, twice a year to be exact, I relive the trauma and the loss I’ve experienced. The day comes, and whilst the beginning was the hardest, the pain I thought I had overcome comes rushing back and suffocates me. Placing me back into that little box I thought I had escaped from.

It leaves me questioning myself, my choices and whether I’m truly happy. I’ve been blessed and lucky to have supportive family members, friends and also a patient partner, but that hasn’t stopped me from spending all week self-sabotaging myself. I’ve spent every night in bed crying, pushing my loved ones away, avoiding conversations with anyone I love as a simple “how are you?” would turn into a long session of waterworks and in all honesty, I can’t bring myself to feel or speak on the pain I felt because it takes me to a place of darkness. I just wanted to exist and act like the dates didn’t happen. I just wanted space. Space to exist in another moment.

It’s weird because I’ve spent most of the year being ok. I really thought I had overcome and was now healed, but those dates come along and everything changes. I guess I thought after a few years, I would be able to celebrate Samuel’s life without feeling pain, guilt or experiencing trauma. I just thought the dates wouldn’t put me back into a state of confusion, anger or bitterness but I guess healing has no manual or due date and I shouldn’t try to find a shortcut to overcome the pain. I remember speaking to my friend and she said to me: “the feeling of grief comes in waves, one day you’ll be ok and one day you won’t, it’s ok.”

So whilst, at the beginning, you feel like you’re constantly drowning and everything is floating around you, don’t try to dismiss it, allow yourself to feel something because the waves will continually come and you have to learn how to survive them. I guess I need to come to understand that feeling grief or agony on important dates isn’t a setback in my non-linear process to healing but rather a chance to reflect that I lost someone important and I should embrace it, share it with my loved ones and hopefully come to terms that the 21st of January and February will never be a normal day.