The One Year Grief Mark

Any good grief therapist will tell you that there is no timeline for grief. Sure, there are points along the way we expect to be difficult: the six month mark; holidays, birthdays, anniversaries; and, of course, the first year death day. After that year though, a lot of people (mistakenly) think the worst is over. It makes sense, in a way: all the firsts are out of the way so now your grief can soften, and maybe even go away. 

Unfortunately, there’s nothing magical about that one year milestone. Grief doesn’t just disappear. It changes, certainly, but it’s not a straight line you walk down. So when my clients tell me they don’t understand why they still feel so sad because, “it’s been over a year,” I have to remind them that maybe their expectations are unrealistic. If you loved someone for decades, as some of us are lucky enough to do, one year without them is not going to be enough time to make that loss feel like less.

That first year is tough, expectedly. The magical thinking that things will get better after that year can cause a lot of disappointment and distress. You aren’t doing something wrong if the weight of your grief isn’t getting any lighter after 365 days have passed. In fact, grief is normal. Grief is good. Pain is part of healing. 

Most importantly, you don’t have to deal with that pain by yourself. You can talk about how you feel with others; share memories with them; give yourself some grace. You aren’t broken if you’re struggling with loss. You’re only human.

How to Mark the Anniversary of a Death

I have never found the right word or phrase to describe the date of someone’s death. Anniversary sounds like something to celebrate; death day sounds flippant for some reason. Still, I can’t think of another way to say it so we’re going to stick with anniversary, which is technically what it is: an annual marker of an important date. And anyway, whatever you call it, the date of a loss is important and needs to be acknowledged.

A lot of people hang on to the idea that after that first anniversary passes, they will somehow be on the other side of grief. And although it’s true that time heals, there is no “other side” to grief. Which is not to say it never gets better; of course it does. But it doesn’t end. You don’t get to the other side so much as enter a new phase of grief. During holidays or birthdays or death anniversaries, our grief can grow again. As I've written before you haven’t had a setback when you feel your grief. Rather, you are continuing to experience normal, typical, regular grief. It ebbs and flows, like the tides.

Paths, tides, other sides: forgive my tortured metaphors. Let’s get more concrete: how should you mark the anniversary of a death?

The short answer is: however you like.

The longer answer is: it depends.

It depends on what will make you feel… not better, but comforted. What will make you feel that the day can pass without you white-knuckling through it? For some, the routine of every other day is paramount. I’m not recommending you ignore the day, but if it brings comfort and solace to get up and do your normal stuff, then that’s what you should do. For others, the day needs to be honored and ritualized and marked somehow. In my family, one of us texts the group chat with the number of years that have passed. It’s a small thing, but it helps to remember that we have suffered our losses together; that we are not alone in our grief. It’s a ritual, albeit a small one.

That’s the thing about rituals: they don’t have to be epic. You can choose to mark the day in a small, quiet, safe way. In fact, that may be the only way you can mark it. You can also choose something big and loud and intense. Your mileage may vary, as they say on the internet.

What’s important is that you figure out what works for you. There are no rules to grief and there are no rules about how to mark a death day. But I encourage you to mark it in some way: to write a note, share a photo, text or call someone you love who remembers. Tell a favorite story, take a walk in the woods, speak out loud to your person. Perform an act of service, sing a song, cry in public or in private. Find the thing that makes the day go by. Because it will go by. More days will come, some better and some worse. And on the worse days, I encourage you to lean in; let yourself feel. The only way out is through.