Anniversaries
It’s been a year and a half since we discovered Annie had breast cancer. It was a year ago that she had her double mastectomy and it’s been six months since we were told that her cancer had metastasized and was now Stage 4 instead of the “remission” she has supposedly was in just a few weeks earlier.
I can’t help but record these milestones in my brain and in my awareness. These anniversaries that demand my attention.
Actually, I nearly forgot the latest anniversary, 2-2-22, the date of Annie’s double mastectomy. How could I possibly forget that? I didn’t forget about that event of course—just the date. I remembered it as being on the 3rd. I think we even joked about it last year; that 2-2-22 was a lucky number, a good sign, and that maybe we should go out and buy a lottery ticket. So it wasn’t until I was nearly asleep this year that I sent her a text to honor the anniversary.
The anniversaries of tragedies can be subtle or blaring, personal or national. Do we just try to ignore them? September 11th is a national day of remembrance—now known as Patriot Day—and there are observations and memorials to that day of loss and fear. Other tragedies have been actually made it to being national holidays—Memorial Day, Good Friday, Columbus Day to name a few. So much for memorial—we get days off, have picnics, go shopping. We’re certainly not reflective about the origin of the day. So, what good does it do us then, to constantly harp on—and remember—tragedies or disasters? Especially our own personal ones. Is there an argument for putting these annual remembrances out of our minds? Do some people do it automatically?
Sometimes I think anniversaries should hold no sway over our lives. Like the sway I experience every February as I anticipate my birthday. Because of so many (or maybe just a couple?) birthday malfunctions, I tend to head into the week before my birthday with a mild case of dread. I flinch when I’m asked: “What do you want to do for your birthday!” As if that makes any difference. (See? Dread.) Birthdays are one kind of anniversary that retain the memory of past experiences and offers them up as a baseline for future ones. I want to be clear: I haven’t had any real disasters in the celebrations of my birth—just some full-on disappointments which rendered this birthday girl somewhat glum. But in defense of anyone who might be reading this who has promoted or planned any of my birthday events—it wasn’t you. And, in fact, I’ve had some really wonderful and memorable celebrations. But, sway occurs and I think our past experiences show up to impact us whether we like it or not.
So, maybe acknowledge is a better word than honor, because I don’t think we always have a choice. I believe anniversaries dwell inside us—in our bones, our bellies, our subconscious. We can ignore them, but the events we’ve experienced in our lives make up who we are—how could we forget about them. Even the rough times. These anniversaries keep an eye on their little watches, making sure their effort and sacrifice don’t go unnoticed. Like the time I got a splitting migraine on the first anniversary of my divorce. I hadn’t had one before and I haven’t had one since. Watch…I’ll get one tomorrow . . .
Or on my birthday.