My heart is heavy and it’s impossible to not think about what was happening last October. One year ago our dear sweet mom was fighting to survive in the hospital after a stroke and our family spent every day in the hospital watching her life slip away and holding her hand.

Just one year ago, we had to make the heartbreaking decision to put our mom on hospice and while it was the right thing to do, it broke me in ways I still can’t describe.

The truth is, I struggled to let go of the person who gave me life and had been my rock for 59 years. How do you even begin to prepare for saying goodbye to someone who was with you in the beginning and had been there for me my whole life?

There’s no good answer to that question. For any of us.

Saying goodbye to someone you love is incredibly hard. It’s necessary but impossible all at the same time.

And the first year is full of painful milestones that rip your wounds open at the seams a little bit more and there are moments that feel so heavy it’s hard to breathe.

The day someone dies is frozen in time and sets off an avalanche of grief that can feel all consuming and drain the colors of life right out of you. And the year that follows can slip through your fingers and leave you struggling to believe it’s “already” been a year since you had to say goodbye.

The anticipation of all of the firsts and the one year mark of the day your loved one died can unleash a downpour of sadness and anxiety. The anticipation is overloaded with painful memories and sometimes the volume of grief is so loud, it’s impossible to focus on much of anything. But the loss and the void.

I’ve found myself ruminating on the day the stroke happened last October and how happy my mom was holding her 2 month old great granddaughter on that beautiful Sunday afternoon. I can’t forget the fear in her eyes in the ER or the endless hours spent by her bedside hoping she would somehow come out of this but knowing in my heart she wouldn’t survive.

And now I’m struggling to believe she’s been gone for almost a year and have anxiety as I think about the one year anniversary of the day she died.

If you’re anticipating the first year anniversary of your loved ones death, my heart hurts for you.

It’s heartbreaking and it’s completely normal to struggle with the firsts. And sometimes, the seconds, and the thirds can be just as hard.

The anticipation of the death anniversary can be more difficult than the day itself and it’s important that you take extra good care of yourself.

Be patient with yourself and know that it’s normal to feel exhausted, heavy, fearful, irritable, and sad when anticipation is settling inside of your soul.

Make sure you’re getting lots of rest and tend to your emotional, physical, and mental well-being. Stay hydrated and do your best to stay nourished and eat.

You don’t have to run a marathon but try to move your body each and every day. Stretch, do a simple yoga class, or take a walk outside.

Ground yourself in nature and search for the beauty that exists in and around your grief. Lose yourself in the beauty of a sunset or the changing fall leaves.

Hold the good memories close and do things that honor your loved ones.

Talk to someone you trust or do something you love.

And love yourself with nothing but kindness and compassion as your grief unfolds in the days ahead.

Give yourself permission to feel every emotion and sit inside of the pain.

The grief you’re carrying is valid and the grief you’re feeling in anticipation of the one year anniversary is to be expected and of course you’re going to feel anxious and sad.

As the one year anniversary of my mom’s death quickly approaches, I’m missing her more than ever and it’s impossible to not think about everything that’s happened and to dread the first year anniversary of the day she died.

So for now, I’m wrapping myself in her favorite blanket and trying to give myself extra grace as I grieve. And I hope you can do the same for your own grieving heart.

The anticipation is real and please be gentle with yourself. It’s okay to struggle and to grieve as you try to navigate your way through all of the firsts and beyond.

I’m sending love. Always.

michele