How do you get through the first anniversary of the death of your wife, your life companion, your soulmate?
You can’t be with friends who knew her, and celebrate her life together because none of them lives anywhere near you.
So, since you’ll be alone, do you tough it out and re-live the good times in your mind and get good and drunk in the process?
Do you try and ignore it and pretend it’s just another day in the 364 days of sorrow and loneliness that preceded it?
Or do you decide to handle it with poetic tragedy and on the day of her death fire a bullet into your brain?
The day looms in your mind as a personal doomsday that could “turn” either way.
I say “turn” because “anniversary” is from the Latin words annus for year and versus, past particle of vertere meaning “to turn.”
Drawing from another etymological tidbit, the Old English word for anniversary is mynddæg, which means “mind-day.”
Which brings one back to dealing with the day by reliving the good times in your mind, drinking to her memory and so forth. That would clearly be a “mind-day.”
Trying to ignore the day just wouldn’t work. So it seems the two choices are to end the loss and the sorrow once and for all, or to get out the Jack Daniels and deal with the loss and the sorrow by making it a mind-day.
I say let’s be a gentleman about this.