"The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart."
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
This month of July 2023 marked 36 years since my 10-year-old blond-haired, blue-eyed boy Jeremy fell from a lofty Cottonwood tree and died the following afternoon of a severe closed head injury.
The open-wound pain of Jeremy's death eased long ago. First to a constant ache, then as more time went on to a quiet sorrow. As more years have gone by, the memories continue to be sweet, but the anniversary day of his death still brings a vivid remembrance of that awful event, and I sometimes find myself melancholy for no reason that I can put my finger on other than July 17th is a dreaded day on the calendar.
Without a doubt, I have already done the most difficult thing imaginable: survived my child's funeral. And I got out of bed on the days when that seemed impossible so I could work with my family to make a "new norm" without Jeremy who once was part of our life's daily structure.
Yet, I choose to be warmed by tender recollections during every July. Though I know tears will swell again, I take a departure from my usual activities. There is no use pretending that this day is like any other; it isn't.
I've learned not to wait for someone to remember. MY grief easily slips out of mind, even within the closet circle of family and friends, though this year I was lovingly surprised by two people who extended themselves to say they were thinking of me.
I think again of all the signs of care which surrounded us in those difficult first days. Most importantly the sight of family and friends gathered to grieve and to pray with us. And I give thanks for the eternal nature of friendship, too.
Most of all, I count my blessings for the ten short years that Jeremy was part of our mortal life. That way I can get through the annual reminder of this loss. This secret anniversary of my heart.
Then I take flowers to Jeremy's grave. Sometimes I invite someone special to me to come along. Sometimes I go alone. Either way, I take time to appreciate the unique headstone fashioned from the drawings of Jeremy's siblings which depicted his favorites--elephants and dinosaurs. Their names and ages are on the back of the stone, dedicated to the boy who fell out of a tree.
Some hearts were meant to be close...no matter what distance lies between them.
It is a holy holiday....
