My dad died on April 11, 2000 and when the six year anniversary arrives in a couple of weeks, I imagine I'll do what most other people do to get through the anniversary date of the death of a loved one. I'll endure it by remembering him and the times we shared together.
In recent days, as I've thought about the events of that day six years ago, I've also been thinking about anniversary dates on a broader scale. Every single day of the year, somebody somewhere is enduring the loss of something from years gone by, and most of their closest friends don't really know it. Their friends remember the initial loss and maybe even the one year anniversary, but after that, it's gone.
And who came blame them? Trying to remember all of these dates is nearly impossible. Chances are—you and I are just like everybody else. We forget the anniversary dates of the tragedies and heartaches of our own friends. I sure do. I'm getting better about it because I started entering them into my Palm Pilot last year, but I do wonder how many friends have silently suffered heartaches while I was oblivious.
We miss out on some great opportunities to show people that we care about them every time we let one of these anniversary dates slip by. Bringing up past difficulties to people is difficult, but I think most people would be highly appreciative of the fact that we remembered their hardships. People aren't looking for answers from friends. They are looking for love, and concern, and acceptance. I can't think of a better way to show it than by remember something that most other people will quickly forget.
