When Grief and Celebration Land on the Same Week

Today, 14 years ago, I married my husband. The last two Augusts have been so emotional and heavy that we both did the maths wrong and thought it was 13 years today. We’d even both used our AI agents to come up with gifts for each other based on the 13th anniversary – lace, faux fur and ivory. 

Except it’s actually 14 years. 

Grief and Celebration can coexist

Last year our anniversary was 3 days after my husband’s father passed away peacefully. It was the first of our parents to die, and things were all up in the air trying to support his mother and him through the realisation. We didn’t do much and there was little celebration of the day. 

This year I lost my heart-cat of 12 years on Sunday and it was the one year anniversary of losing his Dad over the weekend and so we were both a bit emotionally drained. 

And that’s the thing with grief. It takes a lot out of us. Even without the tears or the visible signs of grief, our brains are consumed by thoughts. When something so big is so new, we’re still in the swirling thoughts stage of grief – memories, what-ifs, judging our own emotions, relief, guilt, you name it. All the things going round and round in our heads. It’s hard to make space for celebrating other things. 

But there’s also the part of the equation that we’ve been together for 14 years and it’s familiar and safe and ordinary. Brian and I relish the ordinary because our first 10 years together were far from ordinary. 

2012 – Year 0: We got married, and I had my first miscarriage together. 

2013 – Year 1: Two more miscarriages and my first pregnancy that made it past 12 weeks. My parents moved to Canada.

2014 – Year 2: Our son was born and Brian turned 40. Brian’s brother immigrated to Australia

2015 – Year 3: Very little sleep, raising a busy child, screaming car rides. Missed Miscarriage

2016 – Year 4: Repeat year 4, but without the miscarriage. This time I end the year pregnancy past 12 weeks again. 

2017 – Year 5: Our daughter is born and I turn 40. I start my first successful business. 

2018 – Year 6: Ayla develops epilepsy and is diagnosed. A year of hospitals, doctors, meds

2019 – Year 7: TFMR for T21 diagnosis. 

2020 – Year 8: The world falls apart, gets locked down and business booms. 

2021 – Year 9: We’re still locked down in South Africa. Riots happen focused on Durban. 

2022 – Year 10: The world opens up. We pay off our consumer debt. I start working on my book. 

2023 – Year 11: We move to KZN Midlands. I continue writing, adjusting and running my business. I’m officially perimenopausal. 

2024 – Year 12: Brian leaves his job and we start a business together. 

2025 – Year 13: Brian goes back to being employed. Both his parents pass away. I publish my book – All of These Lines. 

2026 – Year 14: Life actually almost feels normal. 

It’s been a lot. 

Gratitude

So I’m grateful we’re still here. I’m grateful that everything we’ve been through has made us stronger rather than fracturing our relationship. I’m thankful that I get to share my life with someone who has supported me through everything we’ve been through. 

AND I understand why anniversaries have become less important celebrations lately. Hopefully by next year we’ll be celebrating in a big way again. 

Happy Anniversary Boo Love Ang. Here’s to 14 more.

If you’re doing your own maths right now, working out which griefs are stacking on top of each other this month, you’re not imagining it. Grief doesn’t ask permission before it turns up on an anniversary, a birthday, or any other day that’s supposed to be a celebration. It just does.

For the full story behind these years, including the pregnancy losses I’ve only name here, buy my book – All of These Lines: My Story of Pregnancy, Loss and Hope