On August 31st each year, I begin 12 days of darkness interrupted by one day of happiness. Most of the year I genuinely exist in a content and appreciative state. But on this day, the cloud moves over me and its ghostlike hands reach deep inside, gripping my organs, leaving me gasping for breath. I’m tired and confused, turning in circles physically while growing anxious internally, unable to complete simple tasks.
Each year, I think it won’t drag me under and yet, each year I am bruised by the encompassing sadness. These are the days I wake up to the darker side of my reality: The car accident that occurred on this date, the 4 days in the PICU, the doctor’s grave news, and the death of my son 9 year old son Jack on September 4th, 2004. More anniversaries immediately followed: September 5th and 6th we prepared, the 7th was the wake, the 8th was the funeral. September 9th is my surviving son Steven’s birthday. This is my day of reprieve. There are no words to describe the miracle that is his survival. His birthday is the air in my lungs before going back under to remember the days in the aftermath of Jack’s death, the shock, the panic, the rebuilding and reshaping of our lives. These days too, I remember the hospital time with my sister in 2009, over the same period, Aug 31st-4th, the break for Steven’s birthday, and back to her on the 10th, 11th grieving with a nation, and her eventual death from cancer 5 years and 8 days after Jack’s death on September 12th. On that day, my parents lost their child as Dave and I had in 2004. It has been 13 years since the passing of my son Jack and 8 years since the passing of my sister Kristen. The community of those who loved them that grieve and remember is vast. Their deaths caused ripples of fear, love, horror, remarkable kindness and deep grief among all of our friends and family members.
The unfathomable walked in the door and made itself at home in my heart. We became companions, this “unfathomable” and me, on a journey of wellness battling insanity and bitterness with a focus on mindful presence and purpose.
These moments reveal our humanity. I spend most of my life honoring Jack and Kristen as best I can, in my own way. I have trouble talking about one without the other as they are inextricably intertwined in my life’s story. My coaching practice has everything to do with their lives, their deaths, and the legacy of resilience they foster year after year. There are many blessings in my life that bring me great joy: my husband Dave, my parents and step parents, my brother-in-law (now brother), family, friends, clients, and of course my beacons of light – Steve and Owen. My son Steven turns 21 this year and my nephew Owen, Kristen’s son, is now 9. Both boys are in notable years of life, one an adult in his own right and the other now the age of my own Jack when he died, a cousin he never got a chance to meet. The blessings of food, shelter, warmth, books and other comforts I am afforded in this life are counted on a regular basis. There are none too small to count.
Each year, I think “This is just a date on the calendar…”, or at least I try, but there is no avoiding these dark days. My soul simply will not let it be just another set of days in a year of days that I miss Jack and Kris. I will relinquish control to my soul and trust that it knows what I need. So this year, I will embrace my dark days. I will not push myself. I will be kind and slow, rest and cry, and even wail. I will dismiss the assumption that this darkness is the beginning of a slide I won’t be able to stop. I will allow my soul the lead on this passage. It ensures I do not ignore darkness so essential to achieving true light. During this time, I will get in touch with my anger, the feelings of injustice, and the questions I hold suspended for the day of my own death. I will believe our darkness cannot and should not be denied. I will let it push me deep, awash in tears to water the seeds of my personal growth.
One thing I have learned over the years is that on September 13th the sun will return, my dark time will pass. I will continue my life while valuing these precious relationships cut short, well aware of their powerful continuance. I will appreciate the life that keeps me grounded, the lives that keep me grounded, and my goal of living an inspired life.
For more information on bereavement and life coaching, visit www.center4c.com. Kim Perone is a Certified Life Coach in Burnt Hills, NY. Email: [email protected]
Photo: L-Jack in Cape Cod 2003, R-Kristen and Owen 2008
