Anniversary of a loss
Every year the calendar brings back the date someone died. Here are a few ways to get through that day, and how to tell when the heaviness needs your doctor.
When the date comes around again
Feeling worse around the anniversary of a death is common, even years later, and it’s a normal part of missing someone. You might be fine for most of the month, and then the date shows up and the whole day feels different. Maybe you dreaded it for a week. Maybe you forgot until you saw the kitchen calendar while the kettle boiled, and then felt guilty for forgetting. Either way is normal, and neither one says anything about how much you loved them.
The rest of the world goes on as usual. The mail carrier waves, the radio plays the same songs, and you may be the only person on your street who knows what today is. That gap between your day and everyone else’s can be one of the hardest parts. It can help to know that plenty of other people are carrying a date of their own on any given morning, even if none of them mention it in the checkout line.
The person might have been a husband or wife, a sister, a son or daughter, a close friend, or a parent you lost long ago. Every one of those dates matters, and you don’t need to rank them. Some people find that a loss from childhood, a parent who died when they were 12, comes back harder in later life, around the age the parent was or when their own children reach that age. That’s common too.
The first weeks after a death are busy, with paperwork, casseroles, and people at the door. If you’re still in those weeks and you’ve lost a spouse, widowhood is the closer fit, and for any other recent death there’s after a loss. This page is for later on, when the visitors have stopped coming and the date comes back each year.
Why the days before can be harder than the day
Many people find the week leading up to an anniversary harder than the date. Dread builds while you wait, and your mind may replay the last days: the hospital hallway, the phone call that came at dinnertime, the drive home from the doctor. Then the day arrives, you get through it, and some of the weight lifts. If that’s your pattern, it can help to plan for the whole week instead of only the date.
Your body can remember before your mind does. A certain slant of autumn light, the first cold snap, the smell of cut grass, or the crowds in the stores before a holiday can bring back the season someone died. You may feel low for days before you work out why. Some people call this an anniversary reaction, a stretch of sadness, poor sleep, or restlessness that returns around the time of a loss. It usually fades after the date passes.
The date of death is only one of the hard days. Birthdays, a wedding anniversary, Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, the first day of fishing season you used to share, and the holidays can each bring the loss back. It can help to mark the hard dates on next year’s calendar now, in pencil, so none of them catch you on an ordinary Tuesday with nothing planned. Seeing them written down also shows you the months in between, when the calendar is easier.
Anniversary grief or depression: how to tell
On a hard anniversary, grief and depression can look alike, and sorting them out is your doctor’s job. Feeling sad, tired, or tearful around the date is a normal part of missing someone. The pattern after the date usually tells you more than the day does.
Anniversary grief tends to rise, peak, and ease. You might feel heavy for a week, cry on the day, and find you’re mostly yourself again a week or two later, with good memories mixed in with the sad ones. Depression tends to settle in and stay. If a low mood or a loss of interest in nearly everything lasts most of the day, nearly every day, for two weeks or more, tell your doctor. Tell them, too, if the low mood hangs on well after the date has passed.
Make an appointment, too, if any of these fit:
- Each year the dark stretch around the date gets longer instead of shorter.
- You can’t sleep, or you can’t get out of bed, for days on end.
- You feel worthless or hopeless in a way that reaches beyond missing the person.
- You’re drinking more around the date, or leaning on sleep aids.
- The low mood frightens you, or the people close to you are worried.
When you call, describe the pattern in your own words: “My son died six years ago this month. Every year I go downhill in October, and this year it hasn’t lifted. I’d like to talk about it.” A doctor can help you tell apart grief that’s doing its usual work from depression. They can also check for prolonged grief, which is grief that stays intense and keeps getting in the way of daily life for a year or more. The page on talking with your clinician has more on getting ready.
If you take an antidepressant or any other prescribed medicine, keep taking it as prescribed. An anniversary isn’t a reason to stop, skip, or change a dose, and feeling the date hard doesn’t mean your treatment has failed. Write down any questions and bring them to the doctor who prescribed it. Some people mention a hard date at their visit ahead of time (“October is always rough for me”), which gives the doctor a chance to plan with you.
Ways to mark the day, or simply get through it
You don’t owe the date a ceremony, and you don’t owe anyone a report on how well you’re coping. Some people want to mark the day, and others would rather get through it like any other Thursday. Both are reasonable, and many people switch from one to the other over the years.
If you’d like to mark it, keep the plan small enough that you can still do it on a bad morning. Say the person’s name out loud once, at breakfast or at the grave. Cook a dish they loved, even if you only make enough for one, and eat it at the table. Visit the cemetery, the beach, or the bench where they liked to feed the ducks, and stay as long as feels right, which might be 10 minutes. Light a candle at dinner. Play the record they always played. Write them a short letter that starts “This year I want to tell you,” and keep it in a drawer or read it aloud.
Some people like to do a kind act in the person’s name. They donate to the animal shelter they supported, leave a large tip at the diner they loved, plant bulbs that will come up next spring, or buy coffee for whoever is behind you in line. A small act like that gives the day a shape and turns some of the sadness outward. You can do one every year, or skip it in the years when it feels like too much.
If you’d rather just get through it, plan it as an ordinary day with a few soft spots. Keep the morning simple, with water, breakfast, and one errand that gets you out of the house. Decide ahead of time whether you’ll work or take the day off; some people find work a relief, and others can’t concentrate and would rather not try. Keep one easy thing in the evening, like a favorite show, a bath, or a phone call, because evenings are often when the day catches up with people.
However you spend the day, have a plan B. If the visit to the grave turns out to be too much, you can drive home and make a cup of tea instead. If staying busy stops working by 3 p.m., you can let yourself cry for a while. The plan is there to help you, and you can change it halfway through.
Family, friends, and the people who forget
Other people may not remember the date, and that can sting. Friends move on, younger relatives may not have known the person well, and even close family members can be busy with their own week. Usually the forgetting comes from distance and busy weeks, and it says little about how much they care for you or for the person who died.
The easiest fix is to tell one person ahead of time. A short message a few days before is enough: “Thursday is three years since Mom died. Could you give me a call that evening?” Most people are glad to be asked, and a call you arranged still counts as company. If you’d like to be with someone in person, say so and suggest a time: “Would you come for lunch on the 14th? I don’t want to be alone that day.”
Families often grieve the same person differently. One sibling wants a gathering at the house, another wants to be left alone, and a grown child might want to talk about the person while you’d rather not. There’s no right way among those. You can say what you need without asking anyone else to grieve your way: “I’m going to the cemetery in the morning. You’re welcome to come, and it’s fine if you’d rather not.”
Sometimes a friend remembers on their own and sends a card or calls. If that happens, let it land. You don’t have to be cheerful on the phone or say you’re doing fine. “Thank you for remembering. It means a lot that you said her name” is a full and generous answer.
The day after, and the years ahead
The day after an anniversary can feel flat, a little hungover from the effort of getting through. It helps to keep that day light: an ordinary breakfast, a short walk if your body allows, an early night. Some people feel a lift once the date is behind them, and others feel tired for a couple of days. Both are common.
Anniversaries usually change over the years, though not in a straight line. The first one is often the hardest, but some people find the second year harder, because the first was a blur and the second is when the loss feels permanent. A milestone year, like the fifth or the 10th, can bring the loss back more sharply. A good anniversary, years on, might look like a morning of sadness, an afternoon of telling stories about them, and an evening that feels close to normal.
Your mind may say you should be past this by now, or that you’re being dramatic for remembering the number. You can let that thought go by and keep your plan. Many people remember the date for decades, and there’s nothing wrong with you for being one of them.
If the heaviness has no date attached and shows up on long gray afternoons, read rainy Sundays. If it’s the empty evenings that bother you more than the memory, the loneliness room has a page on holidays alone that fits many anniversaries too. For a short, gentle way to make room for the person on the day, there’s grief and the chair in the meditation room.
Learn more from trusted sources
These public health agencies explain grief and depression in more detail, including the medical side, if you’d like to read further.
- Coping with grief and loss from the National Institute on Aging walks through what grief can feel like and where to find support.
- Depression from the National Institute of Mental Health covers the signs, the causes, and the treatments that help.
- Depression and older adults from the National Institute on Aging describes what depression can look like after 50 and how it is treated.
If you need care
If you’re in crisis in the United States, call or text 988 now, before you read any further. You don’t need a good reason or the right words, and you don’t have to decide whether an anniversary counts. If you’re thinking about dying or about hurting yourself, that’s a reason to call right now. If you’re outside the United States, call your local emergency number or a local crisis line. A real person can stay on the line with you.
This page is for education and can’t diagnose you or treat you. If you’re not in crisis but the heaviness keeps coming back, tell your doctor what the date does to the days around it. Keep taking any prescribed medicine as prescribed, and talk over any change with your doctor before you make it. There’s more in the depression room and its depression FAQ, short definitions in the glossary (including depression and adjunct to care), and short answers in the FAQ. This page is not yet medically reviewed.