The Day After the Difficult Day

We talk a lot about difficult dates when someone has died.

Birthdays. Anniversaries. Christmas. Mother’s Day. Father’s Day.

We know they are coming, so we brace ourselves for them.

Sometimes other people remember too. A message arrives. A card drops through the door. Someone says their name.

And then the date passes.

The next morning arrives.

And strangely, that can be difficult too.

When everyone else moves on

There can be so much anticipation around an important date that reaching the other side of it feels almost like stepping off a cliff.

Yesterday, people knew.

Yesterday had a reason for being difficult.

Yesterday you could say, “It would have been their birthday,” or “It is two years today.”

But today?

Today is just Wednesday.

The world returns to normal.

Except your normal still contains somebody who is missing.

That is one of the quieter parts of grief we don't always talk about.

Sometimes it isn't the significant day itself that catches you.

It is the day afterwards.

Grief doesn't know the date has finished

A calendar can tell us that an anniversary lasts for twenty-four hours.

Grief has never been particularly interested in calendars.

The emotional build-up may have started days or even weeks beforehand. Memories can become louder. Sleep can change. Your body may feel unsettled before you have even consciously connected it to the approaching date.

And once the day has passed, those feelings don't necessarily disappear at midnight.

You may feel exhausted.

Flat.

Relieved.

Lonely.

You might even wonder why you feel worse now that the day you were dreading is over.

There is nothing unusual about that.

You have been carrying something heavy.

Putting the date behind you doesn't mean you immediately put the weight down.

If you are supporting someone, remember tomorrow too

We often think kindness has to arrive on the important date.

It doesn't.

If somebody you care about is approaching an anniversary, birthday or another meaningful day, consider putting another little reminder in your diary:

the day after.

Then send the message.

Nothing elaborate.

“How are you doing today?”

“I was thinking about you yesterday. I'm still thinking about you today.”

“No need to reply. Just sending some love.”

That message may arrive when the others have stopped.

And there is something incredibly comforting about being remembered when there is no longer a date reminding everybody else to remember.

There are no insignificant days when you miss someone

Grief isn't only contained in anniversaries.

It lives in supermarket aisles and songs on the radio.

In empty chairs.

In recipes you haven't made since they died.

In photographs you weren't expecting to find.

In jokes they would have laughed at.

In reaching for your phone before remembering there is nowhere for the message to go.

And sometimes it lives in the completely ordinary morning after a very significant day.

So if yesterday was difficult and today somehow feels difficult too, you don't need to explain it away.

Perhaps today needs gentleness as well.

Perhaps you don't need to be productive yet.

Perhaps getting through the date was enough.

And if you are the person standing beside someone who is grieving, remember this:

Don't only remember the dates that are written on the calendar.

Remember the person living through all the ordinary days afterwards too.

Because often, that is where kindness is needed most.

Words Worth Keeping was created around a simple belief: the words we remember are rarely the grand ones. They are the quiet words that tell us someone noticed, someone remembered, and someone is still here.