Episode 11 — Anniversaries, Birthdays, and the Dates That Hurt Most

Some of the hardest days in grief… are the ones you see coming.
Birthdays. Anniversaries. Holidays. The funeral date. The last conversation. The dates that once meant celebration—and now carry something completely different.

In this episode of Grieving Greatly, we talk about anticipatory grief, how grief keeps time, how your body may react before your mind is ready, and why the “build-up” weeks can be as painful (or more) than the day itself.

We also explore how different people grieve the same loss differently, and how there is no right way to mark these dates—only what feels manageable and true for you.

You are not broken.
Your nervous system is remembering.
And you can survive the day, one moment at a time.

If this episode brings up anything difficult, please reach out for support:

• Grief Australia: 1800 642 066
• Lifeline (Australia): 13 11 14
• Or contact the host directly: 0431 212 575

Harrys Helping Hands Grief & Loss Counselling - Jen Connors 0431212575

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:01

Some of the hardest days in grief are the ones you see coming the birthdays, the anniversaries, the holidays, the dates that once meant celebration. And now they carry something completely different. Sometimes grief has a calendar. Hi and welcome back to Grieving Greatly. Today I want to talk about something that almost every grieving person knows intimately the dates. Because grief doesn't just live in memories, it often lives in calendars too birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, Mother's Day, the date of the accident, the funeral, the last conversation. And sometimes the hardest part isn't even the day itself. It's knowing it's coming. The days that come around whether you feel ready or not. One thing nobody prepared me for was that grief keeps track of time, even when you try not to. Sometimes your body remembers before your brain does. You might suddenly feel anxious, irritable, flat, exhausted, emotional. And then you realize the date is approaching. For me, the anniversary of Harry's death still affects me the most. But surprisingly, it was rarely the actual day. It was usually about two weeks before that. That intense buildup, that dread, that feeling of knowing something painful was coming and not being able to stop it. When Harry died, it was close to Christmas. A time that is meant to feel joyful, celebratory, family filled, and suddenly everything felt different. The lights looked the same, but they didn't feel the same. The traditions were still there, but something enormous was missing. And I know so many people listening understand this because once loss enters certain dates, those dates are never untouched again. I think one of the hardest parts of anniversary dates is anticipatory grief. That you feel it coming, you know they're getting closer, and with that can come a sense of dread. That feeling of how am I going to survive this? What if I fall apart? What if everyone else expects me to be okay? My body goes into anxiety mode, almost like I'm anticipating something dangerous, because in some ways my nervous system remembers, even if I don't look at that date. And yours might too. That isn't weakness, that isn't failure. That is grief. A little reminder here Traumatic grief doesn't just sit neatly in memory, our brains and our bodies store sensory experiences too. Dates, seasons, songs, smells, weather, routines. So if every August hurts, or every Christmas feels unbearable, or you fall apart before a birthday, you are not broken, your nervous system remembers. And when the day arrives it can feel heavy from the moment you wake up. Everything reminds you the absence feels louder, the space they should be in is even more deeply. One thing that surprised me was how differently people can experience the same loss. Some people want to acknowledge the day, some want to stay quiet, some want to be around others, and some want to be alone. There is no right way, only your way, and it can change every year. For years I still bought Harry presents. We had a special cupboard on display and had all of his things. It really helped me feel connected. Then one day my husband told me that seeing those things every day hurt too much. They were triggers for him. And I remember feeling heartbroken packing those things away because to me it felt like losing Harry again. But what I learnt was this people can love the same person deeply and grieve them completely differently. Sometimes the hardest part of anniversaries isn't only missing the person, it's realizing everyone misses them differently. Sometimes people think enough years have passed and the dates stop hurting. For me they changed, but they didn't disappear. Birthdays feel different now, because birthdays were when I first met my beautiful little boy. So now we celebrate him then still, we take him with us. We do things he would have loved movies, popcorn, chock tops, little rituals. But Mother's Day though, that was so excruciating in the early days. But now I hold both, remembering Harry and loving my living children too. And milestone years, they make no sense. For some reason year five absolutely flawed me. I still can't logically explain why, but I guess none of this grief stuff is very logical. If you have a date coming up and you're already feeling it, I just want you to know this. What you're feeling is completely valid. Anticipating that pain is part of grief. And if you have a difficult date coming up, I want to give you permission, not instructions, permission. You can reduce expectations or cancel plans. Keep traditions if you want, change traditions. Honour them loudly or quietly, or do absolutely nothing. It might be helpful to prepare meals beforehand, tell trusted people that the date is approaching, create an exit plan, book lesson, plan recovery time after. Because surviving the day counts, that is enough. You do not have to approach these days perfectly or meet anyone else's expectations. You're allowed to do what feels manageable. Christmas will always feel different for me. And also our wedding anniversary was days before Harry had drawn us a picture for that. And it was too hard to celebrate that any more because it's so tied to the time we lost Harry. So I ended up organizing a vow renewal on my husband's birthday, so that we could have a different day to celebrate it. And then we lost his father on that date. And that doesn't go away. But over time I've found small gentle ways to hold them in those moments. Over the years our ways of remembering Harry changed. We named a star after him, we honour him through our children. I buy gifts for others in his name now. I donate to special causes in his name and sponsor things that he loved. Because eventually I realized Harry couldn't use things anymore, but love still could. These dates aren't just reminders of loss, they're also reminders of love, of connection, and of the life that mattered. The pain you feel on those days reflects the depth of what you had, and that love is still there. If a hard date is coming up, a birthday, an anniversary, a holiday, a day nobody else knows matters. I want you to know this you do not have to do it perfectly, you do not have to be strong all day. You do not have to worry about what anyone says. Don't worry about surviving tomorrow, just worry about surviving this moment. Then the next one and the next one. And if this week you notice a ladybug or a turtle moving slowly along, or something else beautiful that resonates with you, let it remind you that hard days still move slowly, gently, one moment at a time. This episode is for Harry and for every life deeply loved. I'm here with you and I'll be here with you in the next episode. You will always be enough for me and you will never be too much. For Harry and Darrell and for everyone carrying love through the dates that hurt most. I want one more gentle reminder that if today brought up anything difficult, please reach out for support. You can contact Grief Australia on 1-800-642-066 or Lifeline Australia 13114 or reach out to me directly on 0431 212 575. Thank you.