When the Photos Fade

It doesn’t matter how much time has passed - the big dates still hurt.

Some dates arrive quietly. Others announce themselves weeks before.

A birthday of someone you love who is no longer here can do both at once.

You might wake up already heavy, or you might be ambushed later - by a memory, a song, a thought that lands without warning. There’s no rulebook for how these days are meant to feel.

The ache that comes with time

There’s a particular kind of pain that arrives years later.

When memories blur. When the sound of their voice becomes harder to recall. When there aren’t many photos - from the days before camera phones. When fewer people are left saying their name.

Milestones can hurt in new ways too.

Graduations. Weddings. Children they never got to meet.

All the moments you know they would have been unbelievably proud of.

These moments don’t mean you’re grieving ‘wrong’ or going backwards. They mean your love for them still lives. Still present.

Saying their name matters

One of the quiet fears many people carry is this:

What if they disappear?

What if their name is said less and less until it fades?

This is why remembering matters.

Saying their name. Telling their story. Sharing the ordinary details - the habits, the jokes, the things that made them them. Continuing your bond.

We don’t keep people alive by pretending they didn’t exist, or by not wanting to make people feel awakward by bringing them up. We keep them alive by letting them be remembered.

Here at Afterglow, I believe grief deserves space - not just in the early days, but on birthdays, anniversaries, and all the dates that still ache.

Gentle self‑care for hard dates

If today - or any day like it - feels heavy, here are some gentle ways to care for yourself. There’s no need to do all of them. Even one is enough.

Lower the bar.
This is not a day for productivity or pressure. Give yourself permission to do less than usual.

Name the day.
Saying ‘today is hard because…’ can stop the feelings from swirling unnamed inside you. Don’t try and minimise the significance of the date by thinking it’s been ‘x’ amount of years - grief doesn’t work like that.

Create a small ritual.
Light a candle. Visit a place that reminds you of them. Play their music. Cook their favourite meal.

Let grief have a seat, not the steering wheel.
You don’t have to drown in it - but you don’t need to shut it out either. Let it sit beside you.

Share their name.
With a friend. In a journal. In a message. Or quietly to yourself.

Step away if you need to.
It’s okay to mute social media, avoid reminders, or say no to plans.

Do something grounding.
A walk. A shower. Breathing with your feet on the floor. Something that brings you back into your body.

You don’t have to do this alone

If today is your person’s birthday, or one of those dates, you’re not weak for finding it hard - even years later.

Grief doesn’t run on a timeline. Love doesn’t expire.

If you feel able, tell someone about your person today. Say their name. Share a story.

And if all you can do is get through the day - that is more than enough.

How I’m spending my dad’s birthday this year

Today is my dad’s birthday.

And I’m spending it looking after his daughter.

Exercise. Yoga. Some wholesome food. Taking my son to football training.

Just a normal day - and that’s fine too.

We don’t always have to mark these dates with rituals or traditions. The pressure to do something meaningful can feel heavy in itself.

Last year, I stayed on the couch wrapped in a blanket. The year before that, I went out for a meal.

All of it was right at the time. All of it was valid.

Grief doesn’t ask for consistency - it asks for honesty. Some years are quieter than others. Some ask more of us. Some simply ask that we keep going.

However you’re moving through today, let that be enough.