Which is harder?

 I found myself in tears tonight while doing the dishes.  This tends to happen every August as we inch closer to the 19th, Tessa's birthday.  My emotions run high at odd times during the day, usually while I'm alone in the car or alone in the house (which does not really happen these days 😩).  A friend once asked me which day is harder for me, Tessa's birthday or the anniversary of her death (August 22).  

Without a doubt, I find that I grieve the hardest every August 19th, on Tessa's birthday. 

Birthdays obviously are a celebration of life and yet that day is just a horrible reminder that she's not here with us.  The girls see Tessa's birthday as a celebration because birthdays, to them, equal happiness, cake, parties, gifts, and adding one to the previous age. Each year as they get older, I think they make a little more sense out of the situation.  We sometimes have cupcakes, we have released balloons for the last many years, but still for mom and dad it's a sad day.  

Another reason I always find Tessa's birthday tricky is because it generally falls on or around the first day of school.  When it's a staff development day, I find myself having to leave the room/staff meeting/training to let myself release the tears.  When it's the first day of school with students, I force myself to limit my grief to before and after school hours.  My people, my best friends, are all there with me at work and they give me the warm smiles and big hugs that I need, but I have to flip a switch when I'm with my brand new class of 3rd graders (or previously 4th graders).  This year, although the 19th is the day before school starts, I'll be greeting my new students in a car line to distribute materials as we start the year in distance learning.  I'll be genuinely excited and eager to meet them,  but then I'll retreat to the safety of my classroom to process the immense sorrow that I always feel on her birthday.  

Now August 22nd is complicated.  Some years I'm hit hard by the anniversary of Tessa's death and other years it feels just like any other day.  Honestly, I think I've blocked out a lot of the details of that day.  I remember being called in to the hospital early in the morning, Mike and I looking at each other with panic.  I remember later in the day meeting with a team of doctors who told us she had developed a pretty serious post-surgery infection.  I remember the decision we made with the team to transfer her to Stanford by ambulance (we joked that she must be super smart to be admitted to Stanford at such a young age), and then I remember the team telling us she likely would not make it through the ambulance ride.  I remembering looking at Mike, both of us knowing the decision that needed to be made.  I remember holding her as she was disconnected from all the tubes and supports, and I remember thinking, "How do I know when to stop holding her?"  After that, I really don't remember much.  I know a lot of things happened that day, but I can't recall them clearly.  Maybe it's because the details are kind of fuzzy in my brain that this day isn't usually a huge struggle for me.  I'm not sure.  

With my brain currently swirling with back-to-school thoughts, I felt the need to just get this out.  As I've said before, writing this stuff down is more for my sake than anyone else, but I'll share because I know that people have said they appreciate it and it helps them understand.  So please know that while the beginning of the school year is always exciting, happy, stressful, and busy, it's also my biggest time of sorrow, especially on August 19.