I now know why people often make posts about the death date of a loved one. It’s not because that date takes precedence birthdates or other important anniversaries in the person’s life. It’s because Sneaky Grief will not allow you to forget the date. I can be experiencing joy and enjoying the autumn weather when, suddenly, I feel a heaviness. Like a blanket draped over me. I am more irritable, more impatient, more sensitive, more down. I might not even realize why, but Sneaky Grief knows why. When I glance at the calendar and see the date, Ah ha! Now I know…one year ago…or two years ago…or 15 years ago…something terrible happened.

Sneaky Grief always creeps in silently and hangs around on these monumental dates in my life. I think so I won’t forget the cost of love. Sneaky isn’t really against me. He simply highlights what is missing in the small moments and unexpected places in which I live my day-to-day life. Usually when I least expect him to show up. I think catching me off guard is Sneaky’s favorite way to operate. I am vulnerable and unaware, and just like my big brother used to do, Sneaky jumps out and says, “Boo!” And just like childhood, I cry when he does it because it scares me so badly.

It’s been a year since I said goodbye to my brother, and yet, today, his death date, I feel like he and Sneaky jumped out and said, “Boo!” I have been feeling the trauma of that day for a week or so, not really knowing it. Very sleepy all of a sudden. Feeling the need to withdraw into my cocoon. Just so very tired. Then I saw the date earlier in the week, so I knew what was happening and what was coming. I braced myself emotionally. However, Sneaky Grief knows how to get around any protective wall I put around my heart.

I don’t know if I told you about the traffic cones or not. Just in case I didn’t write about it last year, I will tell you now. The day I arrived in Jacksonville and made my way to the hospital it was clear Michael wasn’t going to recover. It was also clear that the life support would have to be withdrawn. We each took turns going in one at a time to say our goodbyes.

While I was in there, I told him to send us a sign when he arrived. I told him it had to be something obvious because Mom and Dad had the butterflies and birds covered. I told him I loved him and left for someone else to go in.

Later, after he passed, we stopped by the beach near where he had been living. It was a beautiful day. The sun was out. There was a breeze. I took some pictures of the water. I think we all did. In the car, as I scrolled through my pictures there was one that jumped out. It was a single empty beach chair with a traffic cone next to it sitting peacefully by the water. I swear I could hear his voice say, “Obvious enough for you?”

I laughed. His entire career was in highway construction. A bright orange traffic cone in an out of the way place was the perfect sign. It felt like he had his sense of humor back. Since then, we have seen random misplaced traffic cones everywhere. The construction zones don’t count, the ones that could only seemingly be placed by God. Along a random trail in the woods. On the top of a street sign. Sitting on a desk in a college classroom. Up in a tree. In the middle of a sidewalk for no apparent reason. Right outside a room that Melinda and I were staying in. Those first few days and months…cones were EVERYWHERE.

Today, once again, cones. I had not been noticing them as often, but they surfaced around every turn. Sneaking up on me. So…Sneaky Grief isn’t always sorrowful. He definitely has a sense of humor that is remarkably like Michael’s. I miss my brother. The real him. The cones remind me that he is more himself now than he has ever been; and THAT is a reason to remember this date and to celebrate.