From the day we are born we encounter and negotiate births, celebrations and deaths. We all have different beliefs, attitudes and experiences with these, and often, even within the same family, the same house, these can be different.

Personally

Personally, I find November incredibly interesting. From tomorrow until next week I know people (good friends and acquaintances) who have birthdays, including myself. Then, nine days after mine is the anniversary of my father’s death. He died when I was 19, a very long time ago, yet there are details of that day – funny, sad, interesting details – that will never leave me

I looked at a dear friend of mine in shock and horror because he didn’t really want to do anything for his birthday. Quite the opposite with me: my birthday is a week later and I had aspects of mine planned 2 months ago; keeping enough room for spontaneity, too.

Negotiating Difference

There are those who celebrate every moment, and that’s the category I fall into. There are those who feel, oh well, just another day and I believe that, too; but then, you see, I love to celebrate everything I can possibly celebrate and make a big hoo-ha of the day, just because I can.

Looking around you at the people in your life – what do you enjoy, what do they enjoy? How does this work, where does it clash and where, in all of that, do you each get the fullness in your bodies? Included in the deeper levels of intimacy with yourself and with someone else is the knowing and loving of things about you and them; what turns them on (not just sexually, seeing not all our relationships are sexual), what makes them warm inside. Are there levels of it?

Take it as it Comes

Personally, it’s big hoo-ha moments but also those quiet moments of cooking, errands, DVDs, adventures in the middle of the night for ice-cream cravings. For my mum, it’s having the house filled with her kids, grandkids. For a friend, its quiet moments of acceptance, letting it unfold.

So, what happens when your expressions are a little different to someone else’s? Or perhaps not received quite as you anticipated? We, in accordance with human nature, feel hurt. There’re different choices. Express what you’d love, express it for yourself and then embrace the other person, and relish in them their desires, needs, choices, and love them for just them.

Take each day, each birthday as it comes.

Death

After my dad’s death I felt really guilty. Guilty because at his funeral, I sat beside his body and then headed off to my friends in my room. I laughed, I cried, I was moved by the number of people who came to his funeral, the number of people who came to see each of us. I didn’t feel guilty at the time; I did what I needed to, with the support of my family.

That night, I was hysterical; I had run around the house because I was grumpy with him that morning (being born Muslim the funeral was on the same day). My mum caught me and held onto me as I kicked and screamed and cried. My middle sister got things done; my eldest was stuck in quiet contemplation. An uncle sat in the corner everyday for 40 days crying – he and my dad hadn’t spoken for a very long time.

For a long time, I felt guilty when I was sad, I felt guilty when I laughed, and I felt guilty when I loved. I felt guilty for living. I felt sad as I watched my mum dealing with the “community” over the years, I still feel sad.

Culture

Birth and death are the times when, in theory, communities rally together. I saw that with my dad’s death. Yet I also witnessed when culture just isn’t helpful. My mum never re-married. In very traditional countries she would have been married to a brother of my dad; in the country that we live, with grown up children, I wonder what would the reception would be if she fell in love again.

It’s taken me a long time, but that would be really cool. My family went through a tough time after my dad died, we weren’t brought up very traditionally, so our choices have not been the norm, many have been frowned upon. To witness that as a young adult was sad.

Change

I’ve had clients, across race and religion, who have struggled with their belief and the expectations of the community. I have clients who, with different births and deaths, needed different things; who have welcomed the timings of the rituals, and who have dreaded them.

Often in times like these, when people feel stuck, its safe to follow what has always been done; yet where would it take us to hear what the person who died would have wanted; what the family wants? It’s unsettling, but would meeting these not be more supportive? We are society, we are culture…we can change…

Anniversaries

Each religion or culture holds occasions around death. I usually find them such morbid affairs. I wonder what the dead people think. I’m quite intuitive and psychic so have often connected to those who have passed on (I no longer examine the customary readings and praying doesn’t make sense to me, but often when I’m sad I honour and remember the dead and what they were about). The people I have connected to are pretty chilled out.

Anniversaries are interesting. Psychologists say we need to prepare the client for the anniversary – yet another point I felt guilty about. In all the time that my dad has gone I have never felt sad at his anniversary. I remember him; I remember my family and I do something that celebrates me, life, him – whatever takes my fancy.

There are some people who will experience a deep sense of loss, who may feel it’s that day all over again. That’s ok too.

Take one thing from this

We are all unique, our experiences are unique. Whatever we feel is ok; however we handle things, as long as we are not destructive to ourselves or others, is ok. Hear what people say and want, let’s give them that rather than impose what we wish. At any given time we have more than one feeling; it is all ok. 

If you need it, get permission to just be in your experience. The relationship with people who are dead, and even with people who are no longer in our lives, often continues.