child loss, bereavement, tcf canada, tcf, compassionate friends, grief, grieving

Upon receiving my November TCF newsletter, I look under "Our Children Loved and Remembered" and sure enough, there we are, the November People. We are the parents and loved ones of the 85 children who were either born or died in November, those children who range in age from newborn to toddler to elementary school age, to preteens and teens, to young adults and adults. And just think, those are the children whose parents and loved ones are in contact with TCF in Springfield. It's mind boggling to think of all those November people in other TCF chapters, and all those November people spread out across our country and the world.

Some of you I know personally, some of you I “know of,” and some of you I feel I “should know,” simply because we have been listed together as the November People in the newsletter for so many years. I am drawn in spirit to those of you who's “day” is the same as mine, November 6th.

My husband Arlen and I have been November People for 14 years now. On that first November 6, the day of Tony's death early in the morning, I went out and picked roses beneath Tony's bedroom window. Because Tony had been sick for so long with a malignant brain tumor, and because he, and we, had suffered so much, there was a definite feeling of relief that it was finally “over.”

By the first anniversary of his death, the feelings of relief and peace had disappeared, replaced by the most “God awful” sadness and actual physical hurting one could ever bear. Slowly, each November  6 got a little better. For many years we could tell you what we did on November 6, two years after Tony's death, five years after Tony's death. The first few years we took off work and just “got the heck out of here.” We would go anywhere.

As the years passed and our little trips became less healing, we found we preferred to just stay home and perhaps eat out that day. For the last couple of years or so we haven't even gone out to eat, but just go about our “business as usual,” except for the fact, of course, that it isn't “business as usual” at all. I do not believe that day will ever be a usual day. I have found it important and even helpful, to always mention to Tony's little brother (who was born after Tony died) that this is the day of his brother's death. This year we observed the anniversary by doing basically nothing. Both Arlen and I remarked to each other that we felt sad and empty. There were no tears no expressions of terrible sadness, just emptiness. Yet, because I was exhausted the day after, I know it was an emotionally draining day!

Our friend Pat sent her usual “thoughts,” which she had done every year since Tony's death. Now that relatives say nothing, Pat's expression of remembrance has become even more important to us. Somehow it's nice to know someone outside our immediate family remembers!

Soon it will be December, and we November People will have made it through another November, another year. For some it may have been easier this year and for others harder. Some of you remember all the details and swear you'll never forget a single thing. But time does have a way of dulling the pain, of blunting the edges, of softening the memories. Now, fourteen years after that first significant November 6, Tony's illness and death seem so long ago so far distant, we could easily wonder if it ever happened, if he ever was. Yet we don't ever want it to become just another year, yes we do know it did happen—and yes, he was. He was OUR son—the child of our flesh and love. It was not a dream, nor his illness and death a bad nightmare. It was real, as is evidenced by the fact that everything we think and do in life is colored, is influenced, by Tony, his life and his death. I'd like to believe we are better parents, better friends, better people, because at one time there was a little boy named Tony who was a part of our lives.

If you are a new November Person, or December, or any month of the year person, I'd like for you to know that it does get easier. Perhaps, in time, you too will be able to remember without all the pain and hurt—with only an “empty” feeling on that date. It will never be just another day though! Why? Because we don't ever want it to become just another day, for that would mean we had forgotten that child who was such an important part of our lives. We don't want to forget and we will always be November People and that's why!

- Darrie Diamond TCF Springfield MO
Tony was diagnosed at age 3 with a malignant brain tumor and died at age 6 ½.