The 29th anniversary of my sister Denise’s suicide has passed and later this week is the eighth anniversary of my mom’s death. In the meantime, I sit between them.
My awareness of Denise’s suicide is different than of Mom’s death. The date Denise died is imprinted somewhere inside me, especially given it comes the day after St. Patrick’s Day– in the same way my Dad’s is because he died on January 1 (2006). I am aware that Mom died this coming week and I have some idea of the date but I’m never quite sure of it, I just know that it’s there.
We go forward– we don’t move on as I like that a fellow sibling survivor of suicide agreed on my Facebook on Friday, our deceased siblings are still with us and part of our lives. I have a great life and I don’t ever want people to feel sorry for me. My mom and my sister remain with me and our lives together are part of the inspiration of all that I do.
Yet I am still aware of these days and these anniversaries– with their birthdays and my parents’ anniversary on the calendar ahead. I spend extra time remembering them at this time, mostly because of that awareness as they are not defined by their deaths but by the time we all had together in this life.
I didn’t feel sad on Friday, the day of Denise’s death, but I felt inspired. Maybe it was because the weather was warm, the clear sky bright. Maybe because I have much to look forward to and I was prepping for a dinner party the following night.
However, I had done that on purpose– invited a group of friends for dinner– because I knew that it would be good to turn the tables of what the day meant. Last year I found two great vintage patio chairs at an estate sale, perfect for my front porch, on March 18 and it was then that I began to realize I could turn around what the day means.
I sit between the anniversaries of their deaths right now, but I don’t sit here in sadness. My list is long, my inspiration remains high. And they are still with me.