Today is my brother, Ben’s, angelversary as we call it. The 10-year anniversary of the day he took his life.

Today, I reflect on a decade of life without Ben, grieving Ben. I remember the 1-year anniversary of Ben’s death.

I remember the awful feeling of dread of the day approaching. I remember drifting through the day in a heavy haze. Coming out of the haze only at the different time stamps we knew happened through his day from receipts and his phone log. A sharp pang of grief would move through me at each one. I would do this all the way to that evening we got the call. Going to La Crosse. The whole thing.

I would take myself through that awful day on this anniversary for many years to follow his death. It wasn’t intentional; it was just hard to think about anything else. The sting and chill of those time stamps stuck with me. I was in the trenches. Grieving.

Over the years, I realized I had a choice and that I didn’t have to relive that day on the anniversary of his death. I could choose to honor Ben in a way that felt good to me. So for many years following, I would take time away from work, spend time with my family. Zone out, laugh, cry, shop, tune in, talk, feel my big feelings. Heal.

As still more years passed, my healing grief journey has taken me to a much different place on the anniversary of his death. I am a mother to two young children, a wife, and an entrepreneur. None of the things I was when Ben died. My life day in and day out, and my attention, slowly shifted.

Today, on the anniversary of Ben’s death 10 years later, I woke up to my toddler coming into my bed to snuggle. (Actually, first, I woke to her brother crying for a bottle, then the snuggles, haha). I got my kids up, ready, and out of the house to daycare. I came home and moved my body. I meditated. I cozied up, lit my pine candle, and sat perched in my home office with Snow Jazz playing as I write and reflect on the last decade.

I sit and smile and get emotional to think about what an incredible uncle Ben would be to my kids. He would OF COURSE have them hooked up with the coolest tech gifts for kids, and I can just see him laughing and playing with them. I have a tender happiness when I think about Ben now. I also grieve for the family that we were when Ben was here. He brought such a grounding presence to our family we’ve never quite been able to bring back to equilibrium since he left us.

I miss him. I still have tears for him. Today and on the days it just randomly hits. But this grief is so much lighter, warm, & heartfelt than it was 9 and 7 and 5 years ago. I attribute this to allowing myself to heal, to feel, and to grieve. Talking to my family, friends, and professionals about how I can heal and move forward.

Along with PTSD, I have also experienced post-traumatic growth, which is a beautiful thing. I see this as an incredible way to honor him. I imagine Ben would be really proud of how far we have all come since his devastating loss. I imagine he would roll his eyes at me, but deep down be proud.

If you are on a grief and healing journey, I see you, you are not alone, you can do extremely hard things. This won’t last forever. Your person is never forgotten if you always carry them in your heart.

I’d love to hear – How do you honor someone you’ve lost? Day in and day out, on anniversaries, or around the holidays?

I love you.

Xoxo,

C