March 30, 2017: The two year angelversary
Sunday was when the grief starting creeping in.
THIS week is THE week and TODAY marks the two year anniversary of Shane’s passing.
On one hand, time has moved forward slowly and on the other, in the blink of an eye. But, everyday I see his beautiful smile and bright blue eyes and can hear his tiny voice, whether it’s his signature giggle or grunt. I remember so many things about him, yet fear I’m losing some of the details as we move along.
My grief has changed. They said it would. It’s changed for all of us. It will every year, apparently.
For my children, it’s gotten bolder. Their questions and thoughts they formulate and ask have been mature, brazen and sometimes cutting and to the point. We answer them in the best way we can and are so very proud of them for expressing their feelings. We often think of all they have been through and how they manage to be such thoughtful, well adjusted kids. We are very thankful. For us, our grief has softened a bit.The edginess has rounded and things and situations that affected us prior, don’t have the same feelings as before.
I’m often asked how we plan to spend the day marking this anniversary. One thing, time is going to continue. It’s not going to change my feelings or thoughts about Shane or how we chose to mark this day. I realize over time, things may come up, such as events, etc and when that happens we will adjust accordingly. For now, we choose to have the kids continue in their normal routine while Paul and I spend the day together. We spend time outside, we all tell stories of Shane and how much we miss him, eat his favorite foods or head to his favorite places to eat (not Chipotle!) and of course we send him a lantern.
Last year I was just sad, but this year my grief is raw. I keep replaying the days and moments leading up to his passing. People often express how death is peaceful. That moment is, but the approach is not. Often there is such a high point before everything declines.
It definitely hasn’t helped that our first fur “baby” Monty has been sick. Some of his symptoms and behaviors bring me back to those moments.
Today for us, Paul and I, we choose to let ourselves be sad. Every other day, we wake up and face the day with a smile. We choose to live and surround our children in happiness. We move forward with Shane by our side. We advocate for him and children like him to help in our grief. It’s healing to us.
We’ve done a lot since Shane passed to mark his legacy. We’ve raised thousands of dollars and donated so much more. It’s pretty awesome. Shane’s Future Days has donated $35,000 alone to research since Shane’s passing. Thousands more have gone to CHOP and to assist families battling rare cancers.
We couldn’t do this without all of you and our family and friends. From attending our events, donating, and volunteering to approaching us on the street just to tell us you know Shane’s story, thank you all so very much. Thank you for keeping Shane’s memory alive. Thank you for keeping us going.