I was recently involved in a discussion about the sadness involved in the Buffalo plane crash. The 9/11 widow who died in the crash was discussed and someone whom I thought I respected mentioned that he found it “odd” that the widow was still celebrating the late husband’s birthday seven years later.

You can imagine that the hair on my neck rose as I typed a retort something along the lines of, “Who are you to judge how she grieves?” Something dismissive along the lines of “I can have an opinon” was written back and I decided to let it drop. Mainly because I knew it would go nowhere. Those with balls enough to judge how someone grieves aren’t going to see an argument in which I point out how callous such a thing really is so I saved my breath.

It’s an especially touchy subject as we near the end of February.

The child that we miscarried would be turning two on February 20th. Two years ago, I was finally able to let go of some of the guilt and make the conscious effort to try to conceive the child who is currently cutting his upper molars. Last year, I was able to buy a little cake acknowledging how she changed my life simply by existing for such a short time. This year, I had been planning on getting some cupcakes and acknowledging her yet again.

But apparently I’m doing it wrong.

I hate that. I really, really hate that. What? When other people judge the way other people grieve. And I’m not talking solely about death. I’m also talking about how tired I am of how birth parents are told that they’ll just “magically” “get over” the pain at some point. And, if they don’t, they’re unstable or damaged or aren’t grateful enough for the things in their life. And when they voice their grief, necessary for the process of healing, they are told to be silent because they’re not doing anyone any good. You know, except themselves.

When are we as a society going to accept that grieving is not a bad thing. Furthermore, why is celebrating someone’s life a bad thing when it comes to grieving? When I bought cupcakes for the family on the Munchkin’s birthday, was that somehow wrong? Should I have instead spent time moping around because I couldn’t be with her on her birthday again? Should I have sat at home instead of singing in my Christmas concert? While a few tears were shed, as always, I think this was the healthiest birthday of hers that I have experience (and I have hopes that next year will be even better but also have enough of a realist side to note that it could be difficult as well). Celebrating her life instead of mourning the lack of presence in my life felt pretty darn awesome. Knowing that this widow was likely doing the same thing makes me angry on her behalf that her grieving process has been called “odd” or in any way judged in a negative light.

I’m sensitive to grief right now. I admit that. Right now I’m really deep in the consideration of how my grief has to balance my gratefulness. The process of finding that balance will be something I explore later this week. But I just want to say this out loud: those that can’t allow room for others to grieve will someday be forced to remember their judgment. And, being through what I have, that doesn’t give me a sense of happiness. It only breaks my heart even more to know that grief and the process of grieving are things that society won’t ever escape or evolve away from; they are with us forever.