Friends,

Today marks the 20th anniversary of the death of my father, Bruce.  Several months ago, my brothers and I began to acknowledge that this day would be a milestone for all of us, especially my mother.

In the burial office, we pray for the comfort of those who grieve, that through the assurances of the life we share in Christ through our baptisms, death will not be the final word to the lives we lead.  In praying for comfort, this might suggest that grief is a kind of fever and, with time, the fever will break and life as we know it will return.

But the lives lived by those who remain after the death of a loved one continue to be lived IN TIME, with the same days of the week and months given to us each year.  The great baseball player, Jackie Robinson, had his jersey number retired by all the teams of Major League Baseball a few years back.  He will always be # 42.

But we do not retire the date of your loved one’s death.  February 12th will come around next year.  The date is not sealed away and kept from being marked by new events, be they banal or celebratory, traumatic or ridiculous.  On the anniversary of your mother’s death, a young couple gets engaged.  They have no idea anyone has ever suffered on that day, when all is joy, all is grace.  You navigate the anniversary of the day carefully, while those around you are unaware of the tenderness, of what the date holds, why you appear to be holding your breath. 

I am grateful that the Church takes the calendar so seriously and that the Christian year is mapped out in real time, in ordinary days.  When we celebrate Easter, we teach that it is not simply the first Easter which we celebrate, but all the Easters that continue to take place in our world.  When the anniversary of a loved one’s death approaches, you are not simply remembering the first loss, but also noticing how you experience their loss on this day, with your life now, even as it has new riches and depths that your first and most raw grief would not have believed. 

My father died the day after my parents’ wedding anniversary and so kept that day from lasting harm.  I recall, even now, that on the day of his death, I was grateful for such a final kind gesture by him.

Blessings as we enter Lent,

Brian +