Making Meaning In The Midst of Grief

December 16th is a date that will live in infamy, at least in my life. It represents the day our precious Bryan went to Heaven. The day I thought my heart would stop beating; the day our lives changed forever; and it is something else: it is the day of my new son-in-law, Luke’s birth, the remarkable young man who promised to love and cherish our precious firstborn daughter, Robin. I didn’t realize it was Luke’s birthday until I had attached a different meaning to it – Bryan’s death.

We all have emotional connections to certain dates, don’t we? For me, the significance is layered.
My mom’s birthday falls on September 11—“911”—a date already heavy with meaning.

She passed away on August 31, which also happens to be my firstborn daughter’s birthday.
And my own birthday, December 21, is the day before we buried our precious Bryan.

Reframing Those Memories

How do we change ingrained “meaning-making” for significant events in our lives? I don’t have all the answers, but here are some things to consider:

• Do something new. For most of the last 7 years, our family has gotten away on the anniversary of Bryan’s death to be together. We hang out, play games, celebrate Luke’s birthday, and do something to remember Bryan.
• Do something creative. Inadvertently, I’ve spent many holidays working on quilts for family and friends. This year, I was more intentional. I have been putting together a t-shirt quilt for a dear friend who lost his wife this fall, and it has been therapeutic. It requires me to slow down, giving space to think, process, and feel. I know other people who create Christmas Blankets for the cemetery. Or wraths from old ornaments their loved one owned or made.
• Tell others what you need. So much healing takes place in community. I told friends that what I most feared was Bryan being forgotten, and anniversaries and birthdays were hard for me. On the first anniversary of Bryan’s death, friends at church wanted to honor that request. Bryan’s friends needed a way to remember a friend, so someone came up with the plan to wear flannel to church and take pictures to share with our family (as we planned to be away). My Facebook page, email box, and cell phone lit up with pictures of friends wearing flannel. Each photo communicated one message, “Bryan isn’t forgotten, and neither are you.”
• Find a new meaning for significant days. I had attached Bryan’s funeral to my birthday, so friends are helping me “reframe” that message. My work family bombarded my office with decorations and obnoxious birthday songs to communicate your birthday isn’t about death. It is about life. We love you.

Reflection

As you think about your story, what meaning have you attached to significant days? What might you do to give those memories new meaning? Who do you need to tell to help support you in that effort?