Anniversaries are often linked to joyous milestones – like a wedding.
But for some, an anniversary serves as a reminder of an incident that altered their lives forever. This is the reality our speakers face year after year.
We asked them to share how they navigate that day – the one that changed everything.
MICHELLE RATH
If I am to discuss anniversaries and how we as a family collectively deal with this, we all deal with it in our own way.
January 19th is THAT day – the one that reminds us of how much we have lost. Yet, it was once a day I celebrated as my own birthday.
Now, there is no reason to celebrate this day.
If I am brutally honest, each passing year only gets harder for me and is one where we spend time with Alex remembering him.
His boss joins us to pay his respects, and we share stories of his comical antics – small moments that allow us to smile, even just for a minute.
I need to be mindful of my husband and other two sons who are very respectful on this day and deal with it in their own ways. I also need to respect them for how they choose to grieve.
This is our new normal – a path we never chose but one we must walk.
Remember to make smart choices and in turn your family will be waiting for you at the end of each day.
MICHAEL WESTON
Friday, 19th April at 05:00am in Karratha, Western Australia was the morning that impacted my life and of those around me, forever.
People ask me regularly, ‘when the anniversary of your incident comes up each year, does it impact you in a negative or a positive way?’
It’s a great question.
For me personally, it has transitioned from the first four years of having PTSD just thinking about this day through to the past seven years of having positive thoughts and feeling grateful for what I have achieved for myself and now being able to help others by sharing my story and learnings.
So the anniversary of my incident is about reflection and being grateful.
ALAN NEWEY
For the first few years after my workplace incident on September 30, 1999, I did nothing but sit at home, growing angrier by the day.
I wasn’t angry about what happened to me—I was angry about what it did to Kathy, my wife.
After five years, Kathy and I started going out to celebrate surviving the accident together. Many couples aren’t as lucky. The strain of incidents like this often tears marriages apart.
Since Kathy passed away, I’ve gone back to sitting at home with a pizza and a Bintang beer, feeling that same anger all over again. Not because of my own accident, but because of the toll it took on her. No matter what the doctors say, I will always believe that the stress of my injury was the root cause of the illness that took her from me.
We lived through it together. Kathy always said my accident wasn’t to blame, but I’ll never stop believing it played a part in her illness.
So now, I sit alone with my pizza and my beer, blaming myself—not for what happened to me, but for what happened to Kathy.
JAMES WOOD
I always think of anniversaries as a time to celebrate.
Birthdays and weddings are all times when we acknowledge a special day in our lives.
But what if the day isn’t so special, like the anniversary of when someone gets seriously hurt or killed while doing their job?
I have an anniversary, the 23rd of September every year. This is the day that I woke up, went to work, and came home nine months later.
For the first few years after my injury, I got drunk on this day. No matter where I was or what I was doing, I made sure to keep that day free to reflect, mourn, and ponder on what I had lost.
As I got older and drank less, I started to spend that day alone and not leave the house.
I then started to spend the day in solitude. I would pack my swag and dog and then find a remote camping site for some quiet time.
After I met Vanessa, I just seemed to relax with the date; I didn’t feel the need to acknowledge it or give it any special attention or treatment, and I guess that’s where I am today. It’s just a date, not something that deserves my time or even effort.
But it’s still there, 23rd September is the day that changed my life forever.
