Bitter Anniversaries
Over the last few days leading up to today, I’ve told myself that I refuse to succumb to the anniversary thing. The anniversary thing where bereaved parents get anxious and nervous and relive the emotions that they felt when they found out that their beloved had left this plane. I promised myself and I berated myself. I made a pact and told myself that time doesn’t exist and neither does this anniversary.
None of that mattered as I drove past the Masjid where Noah’s celebration of life was held. The tears came as I re-experienced walking with my hand placed lightly on his tiny, white coffin down the ramp towards the hearse. They built up and fell harder as I drove past the hospital where my heart was shattered to pieces.
Everything came back.
It’s hard to believe that six months have passed. It’s almost like yesterday that we woke up to an abnormally beautiful, sunny and warm Friday where I showered Noah with all of my love as we got ready that morning. I still remember hugging him extra hard and giving him extra kisses before I strapped him into his car seat. I still remember the way he looked at me when I dropped him off at day care, almost like, “Go to school mommy, I’ll be okay.” And for the first time actually thinking about skipping class to take him to the park and get our weekend started right.
It’s hard to believe that it was six months ago that, as I intently studied for an upcoming exam, I received the worst call any mother could get.
“Meet us at the hospital, there’s been an accident.”
My legs get tired as I relive running all the way from Neckers to get to my car across campus. The pain in my chest comes back as I drive behind slow people who don’t seem to understand that my baby needs me and that I have to get to the hospital.
My heart begins to pound as I anxiously find a park and enter the ER to find that Noah’s not there yet. To remember the look in the ER intake’s eyes after I tell him whom I’m there for as he lies and says he has no information.
The shock and numbness as they wheel my baby’s lifeless body into the hospital.
The blood-curdling scream aches my throat and I fall to the floor again after the doctor tells me that there is nothing more they could have done.
These anniversaries do mean something in the beginning. To me, right now, with these tears streaming down my face, they mean remembering the time before. They mean getting back to a frame of mind where only smiles and happiness live, the good memories. Even though that’s not where I’m at right now, I hope that by the end of day I can remember that: “There’s really end, there’s really no beginning. There’s really no real, there’s really no pretending. There’s really no fail, there’s really no winning, ‘cause nothing really is, and everything really isn’t. I gotta keep going.” – Jhene Aiko
Noah Ahmad Burch, I loved you before I knew you, and I will love you for eternity more. You are infinitely the love of my life.









