Have you ever found yourself surrounded by dates on a calendar with so much significance to your life story? I have; that’s me in the month of October. 

It’s hard to believe I moved into the first house I bought 30 years ago this month. The home and the promise of a lifetime with my first husband made me feel the world was in my hands. A few months later, the diagnosis was made; a few months after that, I was alone. 

26 years ago, I met my second husband while on a business trip living and working in Memphis. What started as a tour of a new city ended with a request for a date.

We were sweating in three-piece tuxedos a year later during our outdoor commitment ceremony on a scorching Santa Ana wind-driven 87-degree day.

Five years later, we finalized the adoption of our two children, surrounded by friends and family.

Four years later, Registered Domestic Partnerships be damned, we married legally in a small ceremony in our backyard, our daughter the flower girl and our son the ring bearer.

We experienced an unexpected winter storm dumping over two feet of snow three years later—a first for me. Without power or heat for two days, my Southern Californian background did not prepare me for a New England Nor’easter.

Each of these events has the power to bring a smile to my face… or tears to my eyes. Or, as usually happens, a combination of both. 

Here’s the thing… it’s perfectly normal to have conflicting emotions when reflecting on our memories.

In the early stages of my grief, these events would act like an emotional one-two punch from Mike Tyson. I lamented about what I’d lost and what we had; I’d cry not for the memory itself but for the loss of what made that memory so special in the first place. One of the mistakes I made early on was judging my emotions.

It wasn’t until I began working on my personal development that I realized that I could change my personal narrative about these events and that my emotions were normal. I’ve shared in this space before how adjusting our mindset can alter our reactions.

When I applied those skills to Octobers-past, I found that I could focus on the memories that made those days so special, not on the loss itself. I can see the day we moved into our new home 30 years ago and meeting our neighbors, who felt like extended family. I can see the promise of taking that blank canvas backyard and designing something unique. And I can smile.

I can see the empty sun-drenched seats in the backyard on that hot day 25 years ago (the guests chose the side with the shade), and I can hear us singing down the aisle and feel the love in that moment. And I can smile and hold tears in my eyes, celebrating the love we shared with ourselves, friends, and family that day.

When it comes to my memories or my life in general, I can have two reactions: either laugh or cry. Laughing is a helluva lot more enjoyable, but I also believe tears are healing and healthy responses to emotions—why have the reaction if it’s not natural, right? 

My experiences have made me more willing to share those emotions and tears, whether tears of sorrow or tears of joy. I work to be in tune with my feelings, and I’ve learned not to judge them. I acknowledge them. I address them when I feel they are holding me back from living my life.

I still feel the losses. Obviously, I still carry them with me, or I couldn’t share this journey with you. 

As I navigate through another October, I find myself embracing the complexity of my emotions. These dates on the calendar are no longer just reminders of what was or what could have been; they’ve become something that reminds me of my resilience and growth. 

I’ve shared before that each memory, be it marked by joy or sorrow, has shaped me into who I am today. I’ve learned it’s okay to laugh and cry, sometimes in the same breath. Vivian Greene said, “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass… It’s learning to dance in the rain.” 

So here I am, dancing through October, honoring my past, cherishing my present, and looking forward to whatever the future may bring. After all, isn’t that what living fully is all about?