Birthdays of the Dead
Trigger Warning - This Article Talks About Death
It sounds like the title of a crime novel; actually, it might be the title of a crime novel. Check: Birthdays for the Dead, by Stuart McBride - pretty close anyway. This article has no connection to the book, though it may seem equally macabre.
I have a physical birthday book still, a relic of a former age, which I’ve written friends and family birthdays in, sometimes along with a date of birth. I forget my own age sometimes, never mind anyone else’s! It’s a handy thing - if you remember to look at it in time. Often, I don’t. When I switched to an electronic calendar it made sense to add birthday dates too, so I’ve done that for most people and get reminders a week before. The timeframe was necessary when I used to make my own cards and is now necessary because of the vagaries of Royal Mail. The only problem with this is that I don’t take reminders out when someone dies, at least, I haven’t so far.
My friend Jacqui was a February leap year baby and technically only had a birthday one year in every four, but I put her birthday in my book as the 28th of February rather than the 29th and celebrated with her annually. She died 12 years ago today and I still celebrate her on the 28th (or 29th) of February. She was only 52 when she died - 10 years younger than I am now - but managed to pack a lot into her life, despite bipolar, anxiety, OCD, insomnia, melatonin insufficiency and an amputated leg. She managed to hold down a part-time job, bake cakes for people, be involved with a youth project and write stories for children. I should also mention that she was a time-served chocolatier and made the most amazing chocolates I have ever eaten. I met Jacqui through a mental health befriending charity which I later worked for and we became real friends. Jacqui had a lot to contend with and often had extended stays in psychiatric hospital, but she was always kind and caring, with a heart for people. We spoke weekly on the phone, sent each other cards and gifts and sometimes letters. I still miss her and welcome the annual reminder to celebrate her life.
My Aunt Eileen died 4 years ago in May. Her birthday was a few days before Jaqui’s and my calendar has reminded me every year since her death, as it did in the years before it. Eileen wasn’t my ‘real’ Aunt, but she was my Godmother and 100% family. She encouraged my sister and I to be a bit rebellious towards our strait-laced parents when we were young and used to sneak us secondhand make up to try. I could have a decent conversation with her and was fascinated that she lived alone, without a husband - unusual in my parents generation. Eileen had a high-powered job in the Post Office and was always happy working and travelling with her friend Jim. She had a keen sense of humour and was one of the few people who would stand up to my Dad. We used to chat monthly and would also write sometimes too. As a kid, who had no real relatives, having Aunty Eileen in my life was a massive bonus. I miss her a lot.
Tony’s Mum, Frances, died 9 years ago this January and we have the date she died as well as her birthday in our calendars. We remember her throughout the year, but make a point of buying flowers and commemorating her life on both dates. It’s crazy how quickly the time passes and these anniversaries of losing people stack up. As we age it will become ever more the case. Maybe our calendars will become a litany of loss and we may choose to forget, rather than remember. I can’t say. For now, I welcome the opportunity to remember friends and family who have died on their birthdays in particular, and think about the good times we shared and give thanks for their lives.
Have you lost friends and family? When and how do you remember them? We have no formal remembrance occasions in the UK, apart from commemorating soldiers from the wars. Some Christian denominations celebrate All Souls day where the ‘faithful’ are prayed for and remembered, but most people don’t commemorate the day. The Mexicans have the famous Day of the Dead (DÃa de Muertos), where they have a family reunion, and celebrate with food, a picnic perhaps, where the dead are honoured. Formal remembrance celebrations are held in a number of other cultures, including the Japanese, who hold elaborate rituals during the Obon Festival.
I think that in western cultures we are poorer for our lack of frankness about death. Many people fear death and others spend time and money trying to avoid the inevitable. Religion doesn’t often help the matter, when death is all about going to ‘heaven’ or ‘hell’. People often live in fear or (in my view, false) hope about an after-life and fail to confront their own mortality, often until it is too late.
I recently read the novel ‘The Collected Regrets of Clover’ by Mikki Brammer. Clover is a ‘death doula’ - someone who helps people in their dying days, to sort out their affairs and confront the end of their lives so that they can leave the world peacefully, without regrets. The ‘collected regrets’ is a journal of peoples’ last regrets, which they divulge to Clover. She tries her best to do the things that others have regretted, but she has innumerable regrets of her own. Ultimately, the book is about her finding out how to face her fears and live well. I think an acceptance of death helps us to do that. Pretending it won’t happen, avoiding discussion of our wishes, hopes fears and, yes, regrets, helps us now and our family in the future. I was intrigued by the idea of death cafes in the book and am interested that they actually exist. In this country we largely outsource discussion about death to the medical profession and bereavement grief to specialised counsellors, but these cafes have the potential to bring back the control to us, so we can plan this important life event. It isn’t morbid. Talking about death helps us to face our fears and deal with this life certainty in a meaningful way.
Talking about our own death is as important as remembering those we have lost. You may find my birthday remembrance of my dead friends and family slightly odd, but that’s OK. I’m hoping you might take the opportunity to decide how you would like to be remembered and that it might be a call to all of us to work out how we want to live.
This is not something I do Debbie, so well done for this continual act of remembrance. It's a man thing probably, but I am thankful that my wife remembers such things.
I did attend some death cafes on Zoom during the pandemic. Interesting, but not such great value as encountering it through hospice volunteering, seeing and working on both sides of the death divide. I now use poetry to encounter death and think about my own...
I think it's important to remember people who have passed. I like to remember people particularly on their birthdays. I like the idea of death cafes, you're right, we aren't open enough about death in our culture.