When you experience loss, you suddenly have new days to dread.

Or celebrate.

It depends on how you’re coping with your loss.

I honestly don’t know anyone who genuinely looks forward to a death anniversary like “OH WOW IT’S ALMOST THE DAY MOM DIED. I CAN’T WAIT TO CELEBRATE HER!!!” but I’m sure you’re out there.

And I’m envious of/concerned for you.

I also feel this is how people who haven’t experienced grief want those who have experienced loss to feel.

It’s somewhat unreasonable but so are most good intentions.

I do know many, myself included, who try to celebrate their loved one on the “event anniversaries” and, well, that’s great if you can summon up the energy and positivity to do it.

There is no “correct way” to mourn your loss.

Gak. Losing a loved one is about as taboo as it gets.

The calendar becomes a bit of an enemy for those who grieve. And if you lost the person who was occupying a position that has received a federal holiday, like “Fathers Day” or “Mothers Day,” you now have that tricky day to deal with, in addition to the birthday of the dead loved one and the day they died and whatever other sentimental memorable dates that may exist.

Anniversaries are just kind of fucked. You’re rolling along, feeling questionably in charge of your life and then

BAM

you’re inundated with emails from every company aware of your physical existence

DO SOMETHING SPECIAL FOR DAD!!!! BUY HIM THINGS!!

And you’re all

MY DAD IS DEAD FUCK OFF

And you have to let the darkness pass because… well, it’s a day to celebrate your loved one and for all the others who haven’t died yet to celebrate their loved one who also hasn’t died yet.

Death, dying, die, death, dead.

What’s most important to remember is, if you can’t quite cope with an anniversary or holiday, it’s a good day to stay off social media and honor your person/people if you can in a way that makes sense to you.

And if you can’t do that, the world goes on and it’s a day just like any other day with the sun, moon, sky and all the rest.

Some days simply weren’t built to sustain all that you feel.

With the plague raging, it does make Father’s Day a little easier because I darkly comfort myself with the sad, unforgivable fact that people who aren’t respecting the reality of the coronavirus situation will gather in large groups indoors with their dads who aren’t dead yet and they soon may be dead themselves because pandemics don’t care if you’re bored with them.

A dark thought I have. Usually, people politicizing a health crisis upset me but, in low times, I don’t feel anything and tell myself, “You can’t make people make sense.”

Of course, if you’re open about such dark thoughts, society may tell you you’re a monster.

Yet, we’re all monsters on parade, hiding stories and memories and honest thoughts which we don’t even post on social media or include in texts to our friends but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there and having them doesn’t really mean we’re monsters.

Just human.

And most of us can’t live up to the expectations we/others/society place on us/ourselves.

But it’s a lot of semantics sprinkled with bullshit and drama so pick up your disembodied clawed arm and join the club, Monster.

I’m dreading Fathers Day, which is tomorrow and which is, a day later, followed by the day my mom died which is then followed by the long-delayed sequel to You’re Having Seizures Hourly or Maybe Brain Cancer as I have an appointment with a new neurologist after the last one told me all those things and also told me I would soon die in my sleep AND I HAVEN’T DIED IN MY SLEEP YET YOU’RE WRONG YOU TRAUMATIZING, POOR COMMUNICATOR and hopefully my new neurologist will have not-traumatizing news on Wednesday and then next Tuesday it’s my husband’s/my/our thirteenth wedding anniversary.

Lucky number thirteen.

Next week is a monster truck full of feelings.

So I will make sure to stay hydrated and get through it.

Because, at the end of the day, no matter what day it is, that’s all we can really do.

Following the exhausting week, next weekend my artist husband (@muellerlowlife) and I will be selling our artistic wares at a sidewalk sale outside of a dear friend’s small business downtown Milwaukee, and I’m printing out my ghost stories to sell in a little booklet.

Even if no one buys anything, it gives me a creative project and I’ve found that projects are the best way to get through the mucky messy temporal substance this life is always dishing out.

My husband asked if that was E.T. in the monster club above and I was all “Holy cats, I think it is. And he’s there because he knows I’m an alien in disguise as a monster-human.”

We tell ourselves whatever we need to in order to just keep getting up in the morning and going through the routine. I can either be estranged and misconstrued or I can be an extraterrestrial.

And I’m going with the latter.

🖤