There is a kind of almost harmonious routine to the days before and after Kalei’s death anniversary. I feel myself getting internally quiet and then, I slowly begin to distance myself from the regular universe. It’s not that there is anything wrong with that world (other than Kalei not being in it), it’s just that I am pulled back into La-La Land (see Chapter 8 for more info on La La Land) this time each year where the noise ­­– people, emotions, thoughts, etc. – are pushed into the background. I think of this time as a kind of grief gift. Just as in the months after her death, La-La Land, a world of spirit, allows me to mentally smooth off the sharp painful edges of grief and the harshness of yet another death anniversary.

It starts a month or so before when I begin thinking about her in memoriam. It usually takes that long to pull together because I want the words to adequately portray grief for that particular year. This step serves several purposes. First, it forces me to look back at the past year and appreciate what I learned and how far (or not) I travelled. Second, it allows me to ‘talk’ to Kalei’s spirit in a kind of tangible way…something that I miss oh so much! And finally, it allows me to communicate/share grief knowledge with the outside world in a socially acceptable way. After that, I begin to plan around the needs of two other important annual rituals. First comes ‘the ditch’.

The afternoon of the 19^th, with weed eater and other tending tools in hand, I drive to ‘the ditch’ just west of Cochrane and cut the grass around the crosses and the still blackened oil soaked soil from the overturned car where Kalei’s life ended. I ensure the fake flowers, cross, lettering on it and her picture are all in good shape. Then for one week, and one week only, I place something living at this site…a dozen roses that mirror the ones I also place at her grave. As ‘the ditch’ is a long way from home, I have learned to make a list of what equipment (twist ties, water, wire, etc. etc.) I need to take in order to tend this area properly.

I can tell you from experience, getting out there with a routine based plan of things to do does not lend itself well to forgetting something needed so I have a check list I carefully adhere to. The interesting part about this routine is just that, it’s now routine. There is a comfort associated with having death anniversary tasks to complete. While my heart feels well, squeezed when I am there, this is a mom job that I feel I must do. Even knowing that, there is always a sense of relief when I am done and leave that place behind me. Then, it’s off to the cemetery.

I have a similar task based routine for her gravesite. First I trim the grass and the areas around her (and now Grandma’s) markers and the bench. Then I place a dozen roses on either side of her marker (and now, a dozen for Grandma as well). After that, Sandy works her magic with an orchid arrangement in Kalei’s marker vase. The final task is to place a lantern with a candle large enough to burn all night and still be lite when her death moment arrives. Just as with ‘the ditch’, the tasks are painfully soothing because I feel like I am tending, in a weird sort of way, my child’s room.

The day of her death is also carefully choreographed. When the alarm goes off, I get up, dress, make coffee, and check the online newspaper for her “In Memoriam” and head out the door to either go directly to the cemetery, or pick up Aunty Karen if the day falls on a weekend. Upon arrival, we set up our chairs, snuggle under blankets and talk quietly while we wait for the now much hated march of time.

When the clock says 8:04 I turn on the music with the song or songs chosen specifically for this year. Then, and only then, do I allow myself to feel the full force of my daughter’s death. Sometimes there are tears, yet other times there is just a heavy weight that settles over my body as I struggle to acknowledge the fact that another year has come and now gone without her by my side. After that I head home.

By then I am usually so mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted all I want to do is sleep. When I wake up is when the really hard parts of death anniversary grief happens. You see, for me, only after the task satisfaction of giving to my child and the ever so brief moments where Kalei’s name is once again a part of the regular universe, does the real grieving start.

The sorrow, anger, frustration, depression, self-pity, etc. etc. all seem to drop on me in the week or so after each death anniversary. It usually does not cause the world any angst because I tend to isolate myself as much as possible during that period.

I do try to maintain the spiritual quietness of La-La Land, but for some reason, that imaginary place slams the door shut immediately after the death anniversary day itself. So, without the mental and emotional protection of those walls, real life and unimaginable pain have free reign over my grief. And that my friends, is why the days after an anniversary are the really tough ones.

Why is this important to know? Well, if you find I am avoiding you, turn down engagements, don’t answer the phone or even worse, participate but doing so in a say, overly cranky kind of way, please forgive me. It is not because I don’t like you, am not getting ‘better’ or am not happy with my new world and different life, it is because I am grieving…nothing more, nothing less.