One year gone
This past Friday marked the first anniversary of my Dad's death and I've been racking my brain for the past month on how to commemorate it. I thought about going on a trip, maybe visiting my mom or making some sort of celebration to solidify the significance of the day. The Buddhist festival of Parinirvana was this weekend (it celebrates Buddha's death and his achieving nirvana as a result), but I didn't feel comfortable just showing up at a priory I've never been to and participating in an event I've never experienced.
None of these options felt right to me, so I sat down and figured out what exactly I was hoping to get out of remembering such an event.
When someone you love dies it becomes very difficult to experience things that remind you of that person. In order to function in every day life, you have to avoid these certain things most of the time. I avoided listening to certain songs, watching certain movies, looking at pictures. And so, I figure that the anniversary of a death is a day specifically dedicated to give you permission to let go and experience all the things you've been trying to avoid. I know it seems a bit masochistic, but I don't see it that way. It feels good to emote. Being overcome with sadness is just as important as being overcome with joy. Remembering the love you have for someone who's gone is probably the most monumental thing about death.
SO, since I just came up with this idea and the date has already passed, I've decided to dedicate this Tuesday to remembering my dad. I'll be watching lots of westerns, having a surf and turf dinner, and listening to Roy Orbison and Buddy Holly (and possibly Tori Amos' Winter...that one chokes me up just thinking about it.) Oh!- and King of the Hill, of course.
None of these options felt right to me, so I sat down and figured out what exactly I was hoping to get out of remembering such an event.
When someone you love dies it becomes very difficult to experience things that remind you of that person. In order to function in every day life, you have to avoid these certain things most of the time. I avoided listening to certain songs, watching certain movies, looking at pictures. And so, I figure that the anniversary of a death is a day specifically dedicated to give you permission to let go and experience all the things you've been trying to avoid. I know it seems a bit masochistic, but I don't see it that way. It feels good to emote. Being overcome with sadness is just as important as being overcome with joy. Remembering the love you have for someone who's gone is probably the most monumental thing about death.
SO, since I just came up with this idea and the date has already passed, I've decided to dedicate this Tuesday to remembering my dad. I'll be watching lots of westerns, having a surf and turf dinner, and listening to Roy Orbison and Buddy Holly (and possibly Tori Amos' Winter...that one chokes me up just thinking about it.) Oh!- and King of the Hill, of course.