Last week the two-year anniversary of James' passing.
I think too hard about how to phrase sentences like that. Not for anyone's benefit but my own. "Anniversary" is ambiguous and doesn't assume any type of celebration and "passing" is the gentlest way I can remind myself that my child died.
Obviously there is no one, correct way to approach it, to talk about it, to live with it. I have learned that no matter how many books or accounts I read, my grief is my own and I need to do what feels right for me and my family.
I have been frustrated with how difficult that can be.
Monday was actually a great day. I got a new swimming suit, went swimming and had a great time talking with a dear friend, ate at my favorite Mexican restaurant. If I picked the day out of the whole year, it would rank highly as full of sunshine and happy moments.
At the end of the day though, my heart sank. It isn't that the day wasn't great or that I regretted the way I approached the day, it was that two years later I am still just as confused and sad and angry about losing James and learning how to live onward.
Earlier in the week Kyle and I had attended the temple which was wonderful but felt premature. The weight of the day approaching hadn't really hit, the questions hadn't returned, the ache had been pushed away.
Before bed on Monday evening I realized that all I really wanted for the day was a moment of silence. Five minutes would be even better and if we are really being honest I want the whole day. A moment, a minute, a day for the world to stop moving, stop working, stop buzzing around. I wanted people to alter their plans and remember my son. I want that for all children who have been lost. For the world to stop spinning, just for a day.
Thank you to all of you who sent messages and posts of love and support. Thank you for taking a moment. Thank you to family and friends who altered their plans to support me in my grief. Thank you to those who took the time on Monday to visit his grave, to take a picture and send it to me. At the end of the day it was EXACTLY what I needed. To know that his life made someone change a moment of theirs.
Next year I have a plan and I am writing it down so that I can remember it, so that anyone who reads this can help me remember it. I want a moment of your day on July 20th of next year. A moment, a minute, a day where you do something kind, do something good, do something out of love. Let's call it The James Effect.