How to Mark an Anniversary in Grief
Order pizza, change your hair, or opt out entirely - anything goes!
In grief, any day can be heavy for no reason at all. And there are days that loom on the calendar where the pain can feel particularly sharp. The build-up can be excruciating, and it can feel like it will be impossible to endure. It feels significant and so should be honoured in a significant way. But how do you do that? It might feel overwhelming, which is understandable because we’ve never had to do this before.
For me, the heaviest days are the anniversary of the day that Michael died, his birthday, my birthday, our wedding anniversary and then all the holidays to varying degrees. Even days that didn’t seem to hold significance previously, felt pointed in my grief.1
I have a reader (hello friend) who asked if I have any suggestions on how to spend an upcoming anniversary and I started writing back to the comment and found I had a lot to say! It’s a common question in grief, so I thought it deserved its own post.
Because how DO you honour those days?
How do you mark the occasion in a way that might honour your loved one or your relationship and everything that you loved about them? What to do on a day where you would have celebrated with a ritual you did together? How do you spend a day that you should have spent with them? What do you do on a day that could have been so different if they were still alive?
In the build-up to, and on these days the “could have”, “should have”, “would have” stories are on Arianna-Grande-as-Glinda level of performance– they are working overtime and flawlessly nailing it!2
It’s all a bit much.
If I can offer something I’ve noticed for myself, it’s this. While the first year or two of these anniversaries were daunting and seemed unbearable to face, I have noticed that the pain has softened more recently. I now know what I might expect, while understanding that could change in an instant due to griefs unpredictability, and I have built some of my own rituals.
I’ll share what I’ve done, what was helpful, and some different considerations that may assist planning plan these difficult days.
Acknowledge and honour what’s true for you
Start with what’s true for you. This might be a really painful day that might be hard to celebrate. I didn’t feel like I would survive these days, especially in the first year, and so the idea of celebrating felt so off.
Acknowledge the significance or challenge of this anniversary. For me, it was excruciatingly painful to celebrate a wedding anniversary when Mike was dead. Because he wasn’t there and should have been. I don’t care how anyone tries to roll that turd in glitter, there is no two ways about it. While the people around us might have the best intentions on trying to “cheer” us into some positive thinking, honouring what’s true is how I begin to feel grounded.
What might feel okay
You might not feel good on these days, so lowering the bar to what might feel tolerable or meaningful in some way might be more achievable.
No one can do this for you, and as much as they may have very loud opinions about what you should do, the choice is yours. Ultimately, this is something you must feel your way through a little blindly, but there are some things to consider.
Have a plan
I found having some sort of plan helped. Even if that plan changes on the day, it helps in the lead up which can be painful and daunting.
The plan could be as simple as watch a movie you both loved and order some food. Or it could involve getting people together and sharing stories about your loved one.
Give yourself grace to opt out or change the plan
It’s okay to opt out. I generally prefer to acknowledge the day in some way, however simple the gesture, this feels right for me. But there is the option to just have a day like any other day. Opting out entirely is perfectly understandable.
Also, you might not know how you will feel until you’re in it. You may need to cancel or pivot. Have you planned a party with 50 people and on the day think, nah actually, I can’t do this? That’s okay! It’s fine change your mind and cancel. If you’re worried, it might be helpful to communicate this potential cancellation ahead of time to manage expectations.
Things I’ve done
For this piece, I thought back to my year of “firsts” and different ways I marked various days. Some stood out as more meaningful, while others were a means to an end of getting through a tough day.
About three months after Mike died, I spent our first date anniversary sitting at the hairdresser for four hours going blonde. I was about to start a new job, the first in the after, and needed different hair. I felt like I needed a disguise of sorts to face this and meet a whole new crew who knew nothing about me or about my loss. While this may seem weird, when I look back at this, I view it as a radical act of self-care.
On our first wedding anniversary I went back at the beach where we got married. I brought some of Mike’s favourite snacks and two friends joined for a bit. We toasted Mike, shared stories about him, and honoured the special day it was. I looked at photos and videos and shared some of his wise words. After I watched a brilliant sunset, I then went home and collapsed under a blanket.
On Mike’s birthday I visited3 a beach spot that was special to us, as well as his memorial bench. That night I ordered his favourite pizza (extra pepperoni!) and watched the Matrix – one of his favourite films.
It never felt like the right way or enough somehow. But I got through it just the same. The plan doesn’t need to huge. But having something lined up helps.
Sharing and connecting
While my instinct is to often spend these days alone, I must admit that the most meaningful parts of these days often come from connecting with others.
My favourite moments were often hearing from people like Mike’s friends or my friends and family. Getting a text from someone who knew Mike saying they love and miss him too always means everything. Crying to a loved one over the phone was also powerful.
Sharing a story, his words, photos or videos has been something of a ritual for me. Sometimes I plan this in advance due to the emotional overwhelm on the day. But either way, putting something out there that shares a piece of him with my network seems to help.
Grief is deeply isolating. Using those days as a way to share my reality was a meaningful way I could be seen and share something about Mike’s soul.
Questions to ask yourself
When planning griefy anniversaries here are some questions you could ask yourself:
Do you think you want to be around people or be alone?
Are there people who you feel supported in your grief that you could reach out to?
If you don’t want company, could you ask a trusted friend to call you or check in on you around this time?
Are they any places that might feel nice to visit? Perhaps somewhere of significance to you and your person?
If you’re working, are you able to take the day off?
Are there any activities that you might like to do? E.g. watching a sport you enjoyed together?
Is there a movie or show that might feel comforting to watch?
Could there be a new tradition or some kind of adventure that you could do in their honour? What might your person want for you? E.g. if they loved exploring in nature is there a new trail you could explore?
Are there foods you could prepare or order to eat on the day?
Could you order food under their name? Secretly forcing the restaurant staff to call out their name for everyone to hear?4
Is there music you could listen to that is special for you?
Are there photos or videos you could look at?
Are there any rituals that might feel nice to do? e.g. candle lighting, visiting a place like a grave, placing flowers somewhere
Could you donate time or money to a charity in their name?
Could you write them a letter or poem or express yourself artistically?
Remember these are just prompts. They won’t all be for you. Some of them might make you roll your eyes. There is no way I was going hiking up a mountain on my first wedding anniversary without Mike, but everyone is different!
Whatever you decide, have a plan, remember you can change the plan, and prioritise self-compassion.
Please share any suggestions or ways you’ve marked difficult days below!
Family Day, I’m looking at you! Don’t get me wrong, I love a stat holiday, but what is that one about, British Columbia?
Anyone else had the Wicked songs stuck in their head for weeks? Ozians, where you at!
Cried at. Safe to assume there were tears at all of these events.
This one is on my list for next time!
Love this Miranda. Thank you for sharing. We are on this journey of grief and
uncertainty of what we should do. Your words are very helpful.
For me, I feel the build up to any anniversary is much harder than the actual day. I say that from looking back after all the firsts I have now gone through. John’s birthday is coming up next week and I am not feeling as emotional or unsettled of how that day will go. I now feel much lighter, after being through all those anniversaries already, which I was not expecting.
I will share that I do feel John with me, especially when I am struggling with an issue or decision. I get some kind of sign from him that gives me the guidance. It’s happened
way too many times to ignore, which gives me the strength I need when struggling with what I should do. If that makes any sense at all lol.
Dear Miranda,
Thank you for answering my question with an entire post! Your ideas are super helpful and no doubt I will keep coming back to it as different anniversaries and significant days pop up throughout the year. My birthday and my late partner's birthdays are both coming up next week. The memorial service for my partner is going to be held on his actual birthday as his children and I all thought it would be a lovely way to celebrate his life with all the people he loved and touched. As for my birthday, I am planning to keep it low key. Serendipity was on my side when a colleague/friend suggested we rehearse the dance we are doing for the memorial service on my birthday (not knowing it was my birthday). I think it would help as I would be doing something I love (dancing) with the people I love (my fellow dancers) and dancing for my beloved. Thank you again, Miranda. xo