Dancing Salamanders

The Anniversary

3 October 20245 min read

It can start without you first understanding why. A week, perhaps a few weeks, when everything feels heavier again. Sleep gets worse. You're tearful, irritable, anxious without being able to put your finger on what it is. You wonder whether you're going backwards, whether the grief that had begun to feel a little more carried has suddenly flooded back. And then you look at the calendar — and see that the day is approaching. The anniversary. The day they died. The birthday that should have been.

If you recognise this, we want to say immediately: you're not going backwards, and nothing is wrong with you. The body often remembers before the head has had time to think the thought. Many of us who have lost someone to suicide feel the significant days long before we consciously count down to them. This piece is about anniversaries and other days that hurt — and about how there is no right way to get through them.

The Body Remembers Before the Head Does

This is one of the most puzzling things about grief: how the body seems to have its own calendar. You might not be going around thinking about the day approaching at all — and yet suddenly you become low, tense or exhausted in the weeks before it. Only in retrospect do you realise why.

This is completely normal and entirely human. The body carries memories that don't always pass through conscious thought. The light at this time of year, the temperature in the air, a particular smell, a festival approaching — all of it can stir something before you've formed a single thought. Feeling worse in the weeks before an anniversary is therefore not a sign that something has gone wrong. It's a sign that your body remembers someone it loved.

Knowing this in advance actually helps. When the heavy feeling comes creeping in, you can say to yourself: this is because the day is approaching. It's okay. It's love making itself known.

There Is No Right Way

We want to be very clear here, because many people suffer unnecessarily over the question of whether they're doing it "right": there is no right way to get through an anniversary. There is only your way — the one that works for you in this particular year.

Some of us want ritual. We light a candle, go to the place that was yours together, cook their favourite meal, listen to their music, gather those who loved them and share memories. Doing something with the day, giving the grief a form, can feel healing and right.

Others want an ordinary day. We go to work as usual, keep going, let the day be a day among others — not to flee, but because that's how we can manage and how we want it. That's equally valid.

And some of us want to escape the date itself. We travel, change environment, make sure not to be in the usual place where every room is a reminder. Getting away from a day that hurts too much isn't weakness or denial. It's taking care of yourself.

None of these approaches is more worthy than the others. You don't need to light candles if it feels wrong. You don't need to "face" the day in any particular way. You're allowed to do what makes it possible to get through.

There is no right way to carry an anniversary. There is only your way — and it's allowed to change from year to year.

Planning Ahead Helps

One thing many of us have learned: it makes a big difference to decide something in advance. Not to have the whole day mapped out, but to have some kind of anchor — one person to call, one place to go, one small thing to do that belongs to them. When you know in advance that you'll do something specific with the day, the days leading up to it can feel a little less formless.

Tell someone close to you that the day is coming. Not necessarily to do it together, but so that someone knows and can check in. The worst that can happen with an anniversary is to have nobody notice that the day even came.

The Days That Aren't the Anniversary But Still Hurt

The anniversary of the death isn't always the hardest day. For many of us it's other days: their birthday. The first Christmas. The first time you were supposed to be together and weren't. Midsummer. An ordinary Tuesday when you suddenly realise it's been exactly two years.

These days don't announce themselves in the same way. They can ambush you. A song in a shop. A smell. The light coming through the window at a certain angle.

You're allowed to feel it all. You don't have to justify why today hurts more than yesterday. Grief doesn't follow a tidy calendar. It follows love.

You Don't Have to Go Through It Alone

If there's one thing we want you to take away from this, it's this: you don't have to carry the significant days alone. There are people who understand — who carry their own dates, their own anniversaries, their own calendar that knows when to make the weight heavier.

To share it, even just to say to someone: "the day is coming and I'm not doing well" — that changes something. The day doesn't disappear. But carrying it with someone is different from carrying it entirely alone.


Support right now:

  • Mind Självmordslinjen (Sweden): Call 90101 or chat at mind.se — open around the clock, anonymous and free
  • 1177 — healthcare advice around the clock
  • Emergency: 112
  • International Association for Suicide Prevention: iasp.info