I zoomed toward the seventh anniversary of my baby's loss with the usual dread. Her birthday four months ago was worse than any for years. I was expecting more of the same but worse.
Then, the day before my baby's angelversary, an incident thit me like a speeding brick wall, too close to home. My long time friend told me her husband had just died in a car crash. She's one of the most sensitive, sweetest people I have ever known, and her husband had been her childhood sweetheart. They've been best friends and confidants forever. Her whole world revolved around him.
Since my loss, I've been perpetually terrified of losing another family member. My series of miscarriages have only made my fear worse. Right after my baby died, we went to support groups in which recent widows and widowers spoke of the pain of losing the other half of their mind, their greatest support, and the love of their lives. And now, my good friend faced that agony. I can only imagine what she's going through.
We went on a mini vacation for the angelversary to be anywhere but at home, in our own skins during that painful day. I also had work I had to do time-sensitive work on the trip that I hadn't managed to finish before. Between our campout trip to Craters of the Moon and grading papers, I scarcely had time to think about the significance of the day. Every time I did, any self-pity or sorrow turned into mourning for my friend's loss.
I highly recommend staying busy on any anniversary and taking the time to reach out to others who are struggling. The scriptures tell us to mourn with those that mourn. There is no question that crying with her, lifting her, lifted me as well.
