It’s been about three years or so since I was aware of walking in my sleep. In the past couple of weeks I’ve awaken to find myself examining the alarm keypad. I was trying to decide whether or not I’d set the alarm. This is the usual m.o. for my wandering (let’s not even try to assess the “deep-seeded need for security where there is none” in that action).

I usually walk in my sleep when I’m stressed. So, I’m not acknowledging something that’s going on or it’s the time of year – the six weeks between the anniversary of Dad’s death and the anniversary of Mum’s death. Also in that six weeks time, I celebrate their birthdays – period bookended by their deaths. They are very present in my life during this time. Dad’s gone 11 years and Mum will be three years tomorrow. I miss them each and every day but I guess these dates, these anniversaries make the loss palpable.

It’s only a number. A date. It holds no significance on its own, I give it significance. It somehow measure grief. I remember being so thankful on the anniversary of my mother’s death. I was thankful that the “year of firsts” was over. My first birthday without her, their first anniversary (when I wouldn’t call her at 2PM to say Happy Anniversary), the first Thanksgiving and geez – the first Christmas! What surrounded the first Christmas is a story in itself.

Tomorrow ends the six weeks. It’s almost like anticipating Easter after a long Lent. While there is not joy in their deaths, there is joy in my belief that they are once again together. For eternity. So, I work thru these six weeks remembering them, missing them and then the promise of Spring and Easter burst forth.