HANDLING FIRSTS AFTER A LOSS: MY DAUGHTER’S BIRTHDAY

By: Annie Sullivan 

Life after loss is an interesting animal. There is no instruction manual, there are no guidelines. Everyone handles grief differently. Everyone mourns their own way. Some choose to face the difficult things head on, others choose to take a quieter, slower path. In my own experience, I find myself doing a constant pendulum swing between the two. I push myself, and then retreat. I find that I want people around, but then want to be alone. Sometimes I find it exhausting to leave the house and “peopleâ€, (aka have intentional human interaction). Emotional energy is real, folks, and our souls are tanks. Some fill the tanks, some drain the tanks. Most people aren’t even aware that they have anything to do with your soul tank, but nearly everyone we encounter, does. Some days you muster up just enough strength to go to the store, run into someone you know, they catch your eye and give you “the lookâ€, and then next thing you know, you are in the middle of Target, hugging, crying, consoling someone for your loss, when really all you wanted to do was to get your toilet paper and go home, crawl back in bed, and forget about life for a while. Sometimes those encounters are helpful, sometimes you feel like you need a 3-day nap after. It’s a crap-shoot, you never know which way it’s going to affect you.

Since losing my daughter, Chloe, last November (2017), I found myself facing several “firsts†straight away. Thanksgiving, Christmas, a New Year, her older brother’s birthday, my birthday, Valentine’s Day, Easter, another brother’s birthday, annual traditions like summer trips to visit her grandparents, and going to her favorite places without her. And in the middle of all that, I moved, which meant packing up her room, and all her things, and going to a house where I knew I wasn’t going to unpack her. A house where I knew she had never been in. And the pendulum swung hard toward having to face the difficult, inevitable challenges that come with loss. I don’t remember Thanksgiving. I was up for a total of 45 minutes on Christmas (I was hit hard with the flu for about a week, and thankful for “elves†who somehow made Christmas somewhat “normal†for Chloe’s 4 brothers). Those were difficult holidays to get through, not only because it was the first holidays with an empty chair, they were also the first holidays living in a split household. (My kids’ dad and I separated at the end of December the year prior.) So. Many. Firsts. There was a new “normal†I had to face, that wasn’t anything like my old “normalâ€, nor was it anything I wanted to have to adapt to. But then the pendulum swung toward facing my grief head on. I decided to do some of the hard things. Taking Chloe’s ashes with me, to all the places I told her we would go. To all the places she loved. I needed to keep her spirit alive, in her family and friends, and live a life that she would be proud of. 

My most recent “first” was Chloe’s 15th birthday. I knew that I wasn’t going to let that day come and go with no acknowledgement. So, I had a party. Not just a little party. A big party in the desert, with Taco Bell, and cake pops, and her favorite cookies. A party with (a failed attempt at) sky lanterns, balloons, memory rocks, a memory book, picture boards, #chloeliveson merch, and LOTS of family and friends. It was a beautiful night. It was a necessary gathering. It filled my soul tank to come together and celebrate my girls’ beautiful life. Hug and reminisce. Laugh and cry. Share stories and take pictures. Eat tacos and sugar. It was bittersweet, but I know she was there with us. She’s always with us. With her brothers. Her dad. Her family. Her friends. But that night there was an energy there. So much love and light in the desert that night. And it was a beautiful thing.

I get that not everyone can face the task of having a party on the “first†birthday after losing a loved one, but that’s what makes the grieving process so unique. I chose to celebrate Chloe’s first birthday in heaven, full throttle, out-loud, exactly how she lived her life. But it’s okay to sit quiet and reflect. It’s okay to cry your eyes out and scream, even if there’s no noise coming out. It’s okay to do whatever feels right to you at that moment. This journey isn’t easy, and it is extremely personal. There are days when I feel I can’t go on, but I do. I have 4 amazing boys who need me, and a network of people who love my family, and help me get through those tough days, even if it means leaving me alone. A network of people who helped make her party possible, because it really does take a village. Not only to raise our children, but to keep us moving forward. The firsts are inevitable. We don’t have to love them, and we certainly don’t look forward to them, but we do need embrace them, and honor our special person, in whatever way feels right. ♥