After my brother died of cancer, a close friend who had suddenly lost his mother told me that the first year was going to difficult, but it was nothing like the second year. I thought I understood but I really didn’t get it until I entered the second year. The second year after the loss of my brother I experienced the heart wrenching pain of permanence. Sure, in the first year, there’s pain but you are preoccupied with settling and taking care of business for at least six months or even a year. So, the emotions jump around between loss, pain, anger and the empty void that the person used to fill in your life. But you are still super busy trying to figure things out and managing everything. There are so many firsts too. The first birthday you don’t hear their voice wishing you a happy birthday, the first holiday, the first time you did something new and couldn’t share….yes, there are tons of firsts.

Then, you experience the anniversary of their passing and that is when it gets real. They are gone and those moments you shared are done, cemented in the past. I had one of those heartbreaking moments when I recently arrived in Florida to visit my Mom. I’ve been traveling to Florida at least once a year since I was six months old, so for over 50 years ~ that’s a lot of arriving. When I was little, I visited my Grandparents yearly. Then I lived there from the age of 15 until I left for college in New York at 18 years old. And I continued traveling there at least once a year to visit my folks. Until about five years ago, my Dad & Mom would pick me up at the airport, greeting me with hugs and smiles. Before 9/11 they would be waiting at the gate as I got off the plane, afterwards at security, and then in the baggage area. After a long trip, it was always a warm and welcoming sight to see my Dad’s loving and relieved face that I made it there in one piece. Sure, my Mom was relieved and happy too, but there was something so deep and loving in my Dad’s eyes that I can see right them now as I am writing this. And even though he hasn’t been at the airport to pick me up in a while, this last trip just ripped my heart apart with the realization that I will NEVER see his warm, relieved smile again. And it was more than I could bear. This year I arrived 22 days after the anniversary of his death; April 2, 2016, the day he took his last breath. That day, I arrived and hour and half after he passed. I missed that one last smile then and forever.

Yes indeed, the second year is definitely harder than the first.