WHEN GRIEF UPENDS YOUR HOLIDAYS
Everyone has favorite memories of holidays past: Uncle Larry’s “toast of gratitude,” Grandpa carving the turkey, little Anna’s rendition of “Silent Night.” These moments sparkle in our memory banks and make us look forward to the next November or December, hopeful that we’ll get to bask in the same hilarity or sweetness again.
But what happens when they become memories interrupted? When you’ve lost a child, it can feel as if you’ve lost the most beautiful moments of the holidays. If your most cherished memory of Thanksgiving was listening to your child explain the story of the Pilgrims’ encounter with the Native Americans or your favorite Christmas moment was watching your child’s delight at what Santa brought, the holidays can be fraught with emotion.
Your strongest instinct may be to cancel the holidays altogether and hide out. Eating frosting out of a can and crying over Hallmark movies sounds preferable to holding it together in front of family members you haven’t seen since last Thanksgiving. But you deserve to enjoy the holidays and seek happiness where you can find it, and there are a few ways to do that.
Start a new holiday tradition. If your biggest impulse is to throw in the towel, do so — by not doing what you’ve always done before. Rather than sit at the same table with the same food and stare at the empty seat that fills your every thought, change the dynamic. Push your family to serve Thanksgiving dinner at a soup kitchen. Start a new tradition of “adopting” a family in need for Christmas and buying the gifts on their wish list. Ask everyone to throw new dishes into the Hanukkah mix. If you’re used to celebrating Kwanzaa at home, add in ice skating or driving around to looking at lights. Mix up your usual plans so everything feels new, not just your grief.
Scale back your expectations. Are you used to making a huge spread of 14 different dishes, including a turkey and a ham? Recognize that that just might not be in your wheelhouse this year — and accept that that can be a good thing. Assign some dishes to other family members to contribute. Call a caterer to prepare what sounds overwhelming. Switch to easier sides that may include a boxed mix or a microwave. There’s no shame in simplifying things so you can enjoy yourself, and there’s no reason others can’t help you carry the load.
Focus on your favorite parts. Is the best part of Christmas planning the playlist for the family? Are you looking forward to stuffing yourself with all the Stove Top you can get your hands on? Do you love unearthing old family videos to watch, especially ones that feature your beloved child? Give yourself permission to notice only the things that bring you joy and ignore the rest. If Aunt Jackie and Uncle Hal are fighting for the 25th year in a row, go to another room. If the noise of the toddlers is too much for you, feel free to read in bed. You’re allowed to skip the hard parts in what’s already a hard holiday season.
Do some things on your own. If the holidays represent one of your only times to gain support from your extended family, take advantage. But if you really just want to leave the house and be by yourself for a while, ask family members to take care of your other children or help make meals while you catch a movie or go on a walk. Family members who care about you won’t begrudge you the opportunity to seek solace elsewhere when you can.
Honor your child. Some families choose to light a candle in memory of a child; others tell stories of funny or sweet things the child did. You may want to buy a memorial ornament to hang on the tree, make a special trip to visit him or her in the cemetery, or simply make a meal loaded with his or her favorite dishes. Ignoring the hole in your heart — and your family — won’t make the holidays easier, but acknowledging what’s missing may give you a moment of warmth that makes the rest less taxing.
The holidays are overwhelming for many people: Travel, family dynamics, and packed schedules can all take their toll. But add in the weight of grief, and the holidays can feel unbearable. Rather than throw in the towel and avoid the celebrations altogether, let yourself do what you need to so you can both participate and cope. The holidays may be different, but they can still be beautiful. GLORIA HORSLEY
SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR THANKSGIVING
Throughout our lives, expectation of things to come is based upon past experiences. If, in the past you had set a glorious table and were the perfect host or hostess, it is very possible that friends and family will expect more of the same this year. They may not be aware that you are not looking toward to the holidays with a fun-and-games attitude. They are probably thinking that this year will be different, and some sadness will accompany it, but I don’t think they are aware of your anguish, especially if it’s been “awhile”.
I would like to suggest to you that, in fairness to yourself, you need to be honest about your feelings and, just as important, you need to communicate these feelings to those around you. I really don’t think that it is necessary for you to believe that because you set a tradition, and always made the turkey, and always had the family over, you need to feel obligated to do it again this year. Perhaps you would like to tell everyone that:
Reasonable expectations and goals. Be realistic about what can and cannot be done. Get plenty of rest.
Exercise, even walking daily. Eat and drink in moderation. Enjoy free activities.
Simplify to relieve stress. Set a budget for time, social obligations and gifts. Simple gifts can bring happiness – give service coupons, spend time together, donate to charity, call or visit a friend.
Take time for yourself for relaxation and remembrance. Give time to others—volunteer. Spend time with caring, supportive people. Keep in mind that traditions can be changed. DIANE ZAMKOFF
REFLECTIONS ON A NEW YEAR
We begin a new year, one that many of us enter with reluctance. After all, it means another year away from our child and another year to be lived without the physical presence of the one we have lost. Apprehensive about any new challenges that we may be called upon to face in our broken condition, we call out, “Wait, I’m not ready yet!”
The death of our child changed the course of our life; nothing will be the same again. But it also has shaped us into who we are today. And it will continue to do so as we learn to incorporate this loss into who we are to become.
Have you found that you have already begun to live differently? Compassion toward others is more profound. Trivial things are no longer important. Appreciation for life, and those in our lives, is paramount. We’re living the same life—differently.
Tragedies, disappointments, and heartaches combine with beauty, love, and joy to fashion our life. These are all a part of life, and our challenge is to incorporate them into our world. The difference that our child’s life has had upon the world continues through us.
So, rather than being fearful of the challenges that lie ahead, perhaps a better question to consider at this time might be: What opportunities will present themselves in the coming year to honor this loss that is already a part of our life? Our child has become more integrally entwined into our being than ever before. We bring him or her to every situation that we encounter. How can we make that situation better because of this bond?
The start of a new calendar year is a good time to remember that we are in the midst of life. It is not perfect. Nor is it one that we might have chosen. But, our struggles do not put life “on hold.” Rather they are a part of life itself! Our life is ours to make the most of, with many gifts that we can share with others. There is no better time than the present to gather up the pieces and recognize the uniqueness that we each call “me”—a uniqueness made more wonderful because of our child’s presence in the life we choose to live.
Paula Staisiunas Schultz In Memory of Melissa and Jeff
TRADITIONS: WHAT TO KEEP AND WHAT TO LET GO
Traditions are very important to our families, and we may share large and small ones throughout the year. Some may be in conjunction with significant events like a graduation or a wedding, and others occur annually on birthdays and holidays. Traditions are passed down through generations, creating comforting experiences and memories that provide a sense of belonging. After our child, grandchild, brother, or sister dies, however, what once was comforting can be painful and intolerable.
This holiday time of the year is often particularly hard for managing different needs within our bereaved families. Whether a few months have passed, a few years, or decades, the empty chair that belonged to our child, sibling, or grandchild, requires us to re-evaluate how traditions feel. Trying to keep a tradition that fit our “before” family may not feel the same or good.
It is especially important to recognize the differing needs of siblings and parents when deciding what to keep and what to let go. For a parent, trying to continue a tradition as it was but with one less child can be very heartbreaking. For a bereaved sibling, losing a tradition that they came to depend on can feel like they’re losing even more and have less to count on than ever. When one sibling remains, it can feel overly burdensome to be the sole daughter or son who carries those traditions.
What can we do to manage such deep and personal needs that differ in a family after substantial loss? Here are some steps that can help.
CANDLES IN THE NIGHT
A heart broken by the death of a child can never be healed. As parents we try every way that can be thought of to cope with the loss, but the void will always be there. At first that emptiness seems to take your breath away and most times we wish it would.
This becomes different with the passage of time. It never goes away, but at some point we learn to live with it, and in fact this horrible feeling becomes a lifeline of sorts. One of our biggest fears is to forget our children. Forget how they looked or how their voices sounded. The smiles and tears that blur together to make a child. This emptiness in effect becomes a constant yearning to remember our children.
Our hearts force us to find ways to fill that void to maintain our role as parents. Some are as simple as visiting the cemetery and some are as complex as changing our entire lives, dedicated to the memory of our child. In between are the many rituals we create or borrow from others to honor the memories and to keep our child's name alive.
Lighting a candle and saying a child's name keeps their memory burning bright. It means we are struggling to cope with this unwanted role of bereaved parent in the only positive manner we can. We will most certainly shed tears every time and we will still miss our child, but we are doing something that allows the world to hear our child's name and for that one moment the candle means so much more than anyone else could ever understand.
For a fleeting second that is our universe and every memory we have comes flooding back to us as we see the flame through tears, distorting it into something magical. It's the only gift we can give our children. This is as close as we can get to our child now. A tiny, flickering flame that can warm the heart and it's nice to think that perhaps they can see it also. It's a beacon, our light in the window, our shining star in the darkness. It's an opening of our hearts and a way to share our grief.
We gather to honor the memories of our children and to share this bond of lighting a candle for the children all over the world. We miss them so much. Jim Lowery TCF Sugar Land/SW Houston Chapter, TX
SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR THANKSGIVING
Throughout our lives, expectation of things to come is based upon past experiences. If, in the past you had set a glorious table and were the perfect host or hostess, it is very possible that friends and family will expect more of the same this year. They may not be aware that you are not looking toward to the holidays with a fun-and-games attitude. They are probably thinking that this year will be different, and some sadness will accompany it, but I don’t think they are aware of your anguish, especially if it’s been “awhile”.
I would like to suggest to you that, in fairness to yourself, you need to be honest about your feelings and, just as important, you need to communicate these feelings to those around you. I really don’t think that it is necessary for you to believe that because you set a tradition, and always made the turkey, and always had the family over, you need to feel obligated to do it again this year. Perhaps you would like to tell everyone that:
Reasonable expectations and goals. Be realistic about what can and cannot be done. Get plenty of rest.
Exercise, even walking daily. Eat and drink in moderation. Enjoy free activities.
Simplify to relieve stress. Set a budget for time, social obligations and gifts. Simple gifts can bring happiness – give service coupons, spend time together, donate to charity, call or visit a friend.
Take time for yourself for relaxation and remembrance. Give time to others—volunteer. Spend time with caring, supportive people. Keep in mind that traditions can be changed. DIANE ZAMKOFF
ANOTHER YEAR
This is another year just beginning – afresh with new days, new opportunities, new challenges. It occurs to me, however, that it is a very difficult task to keep from concentrating on past years and the sadness we endure just because it is a new year and the calendar has flipped the page.
Moving on to a brighter tomorrow and letting go of the pain of yesterday is a gradual process. We cross that threshold one step at a time – a small step, at first, faltering and stumbling – but somehow getting there. With patience, effort and persistence, once again we will be able to celebrate life as the year stretches on before us, putting behind us our sadness, our guilt, our failures and our pain.
We will be able to smile again. We will be able to remember our precious children in life rather than death. We will recognize in our days many little blessings and will be able to share our joys with others.
Alice Weening
SNOW
Every snowflake that falls is unique and has itsown individual design. There are beautiful patterns in each snowflake and even the tiniest of flakes have their own markings. These patterns change again and again…even after the flake touches the ground. Each snowflake is a cause for wonder; each flake is one of a kind. No two are exactly alike.
Like the snowflake, our beautiful children were unique and special; some we only dreamed about and some danced upon the earth. They filled our lives with wonder and transformed our world. We held them too briefly, but we will hold them in our hearts forever.
We shall remember them always.
At this time of remembering, it may help to reflect upon how our lives have been enriched by the love we have given and the
love we have received from our children. Our children leave treasures behind that time can never take away.
~ Denise Falzon, TCF/Lake Area, MI
Everyone has favorite memories of holidays past: Uncle Larry’s “toast of gratitude,” Grandpa carving the turkey, little Anna’s rendition of “Silent Night.” These moments sparkle in our memory banks and make us look forward to the next November or December, hopeful that we’ll get to bask in the same hilarity or sweetness again.
But what happens when they become memories interrupted? When you’ve lost a child, it can feel as if you’ve lost the most beautiful moments of the holidays. If your most cherished memory of Thanksgiving was listening to your child explain the story of the Pilgrims’ encounter with the Native Americans or your favorite Christmas moment was watching your child’s delight at what Santa brought, the holidays can be fraught with emotion.
Your strongest instinct may be to cancel the holidays altogether and hide out. Eating frosting out of a can and crying over Hallmark movies sounds preferable to holding it together in front of family members you haven’t seen since last Thanksgiving. But you deserve to enjoy the holidays and seek happiness where you can find it, and there are a few ways to do that.
Start a new holiday tradition. If your biggest impulse is to throw in the towel, do so — by not doing what you’ve always done before. Rather than sit at the same table with the same food and stare at the empty seat that fills your every thought, change the dynamic. Push your family to serve Thanksgiving dinner at a soup kitchen. Start a new tradition of “adopting” a family in need for Christmas and buying the gifts on their wish list. Ask everyone to throw new dishes into the Hanukkah mix. If you’re used to celebrating Kwanzaa at home, add in ice skating or driving around to looking at lights. Mix up your usual plans so everything feels new, not just your grief.
Scale back your expectations. Are you used to making a huge spread of 14 different dishes, including a turkey and a ham? Recognize that that just might not be in your wheelhouse this year — and accept that that can be a good thing. Assign some dishes to other family members to contribute. Call a caterer to prepare what sounds overwhelming. Switch to easier sides that may include a boxed mix or a microwave. There’s no shame in simplifying things so you can enjoy yourself, and there’s no reason others can’t help you carry the load.
Focus on your favorite parts. Is the best part of Christmas planning the playlist for the family? Are you looking forward to stuffing yourself with all the Stove Top you can get your hands on? Do you love unearthing old family videos to watch, especially ones that feature your beloved child? Give yourself permission to notice only the things that bring you joy and ignore the rest. If Aunt Jackie and Uncle Hal are fighting for the 25th year in a row, go to another room. If the noise of the toddlers is too much for you, feel free to read in bed. You’re allowed to skip the hard parts in what’s already a hard holiday season.
Do some things on your own. If the holidays represent one of your only times to gain support from your extended family, take advantage. But if you really just want to leave the house and be by yourself for a while, ask family members to take care of your other children or help make meals while you catch a movie or go on a walk. Family members who care about you won’t begrudge you the opportunity to seek solace elsewhere when you can.
Honor your child. Some families choose to light a candle in memory of a child; others tell stories of funny or sweet things the child did. You may want to buy a memorial ornament to hang on the tree, make a special trip to visit him or her in the cemetery, or simply make a meal loaded with his or her favorite dishes. Ignoring the hole in your heart — and your family — won’t make the holidays easier, but acknowledging what’s missing may give you a moment of warmth that makes the rest less taxing.
The holidays are overwhelming for many people: Travel, family dynamics, and packed schedules can all take their toll. But add in the weight of grief, and the holidays can feel unbearable. Rather than throw in the towel and avoid the celebrations altogether, let yourself do what you need to so you can both participate and cope. The holidays may be different, but they can still be beautiful. GLORIA HORSLEY
SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR THANKSGIVING
Throughout our lives, expectation of things to come is based upon past experiences. If, in the past you had set a glorious table and were the perfect host or hostess, it is very possible that friends and family will expect more of the same this year. They may not be aware that you are not looking toward to the holidays with a fun-and-games attitude. They are probably thinking that this year will be different, and some sadness will accompany it, but I don’t think they are aware of your anguish, especially if it’s been “awhile”.
I would like to suggest to you that, in fairness to yourself, you need to be honest about your feelings and, just as important, you need to communicate these feelings to those around you. I really don’t think that it is necessary for you to believe that because you set a tradition, and always made the turkey, and always had the family over, you need to feel obligated to do it again this year. Perhaps you would like to tell everyone that:
- Someone else will have to make the dinner this year.
- You want to make dinner in your home but need lots of help because you don’t have the energy to do it alone.
- You want to go to the parties but are afraid that you may break down and cry, and you want them to know in advance that this really is okay.
- You want to tell them that it’s okay to talk about your child.
- The list goes on, but the point is that to pretend everything is “just fine” is a lie, and that’s not fair to you or the people who love you.
Reasonable expectations and goals. Be realistic about what can and cannot be done. Get plenty of rest.
Exercise, even walking daily. Eat and drink in moderation. Enjoy free activities.
Simplify to relieve stress. Set a budget for time, social obligations and gifts. Simple gifts can bring happiness – give service coupons, spend time together, donate to charity, call or visit a friend.
Take time for yourself for relaxation and remembrance. Give time to others—volunteer. Spend time with caring, supportive people. Keep in mind that traditions can be changed. DIANE ZAMKOFF
REFLECTIONS ON A NEW YEAR
We begin a new year, one that many of us enter with reluctance. After all, it means another year away from our child and another year to be lived without the physical presence of the one we have lost. Apprehensive about any new challenges that we may be called upon to face in our broken condition, we call out, “Wait, I’m not ready yet!”
The death of our child changed the course of our life; nothing will be the same again. But it also has shaped us into who we are today. And it will continue to do so as we learn to incorporate this loss into who we are to become.
Have you found that you have already begun to live differently? Compassion toward others is more profound. Trivial things are no longer important. Appreciation for life, and those in our lives, is paramount. We’re living the same life—differently.
Tragedies, disappointments, and heartaches combine with beauty, love, and joy to fashion our life. These are all a part of life, and our challenge is to incorporate them into our world. The difference that our child’s life has had upon the world continues through us.
So, rather than being fearful of the challenges that lie ahead, perhaps a better question to consider at this time might be: What opportunities will present themselves in the coming year to honor this loss that is already a part of our life? Our child has become more integrally entwined into our being than ever before. We bring him or her to every situation that we encounter. How can we make that situation better because of this bond?
The start of a new calendar year is a good time to remember that we are in the midst of life. It is not perfect. Nor is it one that we might have chosen. But, our struggles do not put life “on hold.” Rather they are a part of life itself! Our life is ours to make the most of, with many gifts that we can share with others. There is no better time than the present to gather up the pieces and recognize the uniqueness that we each call “me”—a uniqueness made more wonderful because of our child’s presence in the life we choose to live.
Paula Staisiunas Schultz In Memory of Melissa and Jeff
TRADITIONS: WHAT TO KEEP AND WHAT TO LET GO
Traditions are very important to our families, and we may share large and small ones throughout the year. Some may be in conjunction with significant events like a graduation or a wedding, and others occur annually on birthdays and holidays. Traditions are passed down through generations, creating comforting experiences and memories that provide a sense of belonging. After our child, grandchild, brother, or sister dies, however, what once was comforting can be painful and intolerable.
This holiday time of the year is often particularly hard for managing different needs within our bereaved families. Whether a few months have passed, a few years, or decades, the empty chair that belonged to our child, sibling, or grandchild, requires us to re-evaluate how traditions feel. Trying to keep a tradition that fit our “before” family may not feel the same or good.
It is especially important to recognize the differing needs of siblings and parents when deciding what to keep and what to let go. For a parent, trying to continue a tradition as it was but with one less child can be very heartbreaking. For a bereaved sibling, losing a tradition that they came to depend on can feel like they’re losing even more and have less to count on than ever. When one sibling remains, it can feel overly burdensome to be the sole daughter or son who carries those traditions.
What can we do to manage such deep and personal needs that differ in a family after substantial loss? Here are some steps that can help.
- Sit down together and discuss how everyone is feeling about the upcoming holidays.
- Allow everyone to share how continuing each tradition makes them feel and which may be prohibitively distressing this year.
- Listen compassionately to one another, understanding that needs can vary widely within any loving family unit.
- Work hard to compromise. Try to differentiate what might be difficult for a family member to continue from what would be unbearable.
- Eliminate the ones, for now, that would bring more harm than benefit to any family member.
- Reduce holiday expectations so that each family member has a chance to cherish a tradition that is meaningful and grieve what has been lost.
- Keep traditions that are too upsetting for anyone until another year. Individual and family needs change year to year, and there may be room for those another time.
CANDLES IN THE NIGHT
A heart broken by the death of a child can never be healed. As parents we try every way that can be thought of to cope with the loss, but the void will always be there. At first that emptiness seems to take your breath away and most times we wish it would.
This becomes different with the passage of time. It never goes away, but at some point we learn to live with it, and in fact this horrible feeling becomes a lifeline of sorts. One of our biggest fears is to forget our children. Forget how they looked or how their voices sounded. The smiles and tears that blur together to make a child. This emptiness in effect becomes a constant yearning to remember our children.
Our hearts force us to find ways to fill that void to maintain our role as parents. Some are as simple as visiting the cemetery and some are as complex as changing our entire lives, dedicated to the memory of our child. In between are the many rituals we create or borrow from others to honor the memories and to keep our child's name alive.
Lighting a candle and saying a child's name keeps their memory burning bright. It means we are struggling to cope with this unwanted role of bereaved parent in the only positive manner we can. We will most certainly shed tears every time and we will still miss our child, but we are doing something that allows the world to hear our child's name and for that one moment the candle means so much more than anyone else could ever understand.
For a fleeting second that is our universe and every memory we have comes flooding back to us as we see the flame through tears, distorting it into something magical. It's the only gift we can give our children. This is as close as we can get to our child now. A tiny, flickering flame that can warm the heart and it's nice to think that perhaps they can see it also. It's a beacon, our light in the window, our shining star in the darkness. It's an opening of our hearts and a way to share our grief.
We gather to honor the memories of our children and to share this bond of lighting a candle for the children all over the world. We miss them so much. Jim Lowery TCF Sugar Land/SW Houston Chapter, TX
SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR THANKSGIVING
Throughout our lives, expectation of things to come is based upon past experiences. If, in the past you had set a glorious table and were the perfect host or hostess, it is very possible that friends and family will expect more of the same this year. They may not be aware that you are not looking toward to the holidays with a fun-and-games attitude. They are probably thinking that this year will be different, and some sadness will accompany it, but I don’t think they are aware of your anguish, especially if it’s been “awhile”.
I would like to suggest to you that, in fairness to yourself, you need to be honest about your feelings and, just as important, you need to communicate these feelings to those around you. I really don’t think that it is necessary for you to believe that because you set a tradition, and always made the turkey, and always had the family over, you need to feel obligated to do it again this year. Perhaps you would like to tell everyone that:
- Someone else will have to make the dinner this year.
- You want to make dinner in your home but need lots of help because you don’t have the energy to do it alone.
- You want to go to the parties but are afraid that you may break down and cry, and you want them to know in advance that this really is okay.
- You want to tell them that it’s okay to talk about your child.
- The list goes on, but the point is that to pretend everything is “just fine” is a lie, and that’s not fair to you or the people who love you.
Reasonable expectations and goals. Be realistic about what can and cannot be done. Get plenty of rest.
Exercise, even walking daily. Eat and drink in moderation. Enjoy free activities.
Simplify to relieve stress. Set a budget for time, social obligations and gifts. Simple gifts can bring happiness – give service coupons, spend time together, donate to charity, call or visit a friend.
Take time for yourself for relaxation and remembrance. Give time to others—volunteer. Spend time with caring, supportive people. Keep in mind that traditions can be changed. DIANE ZAMKOFF
ANOTHER YEAR
This is another year just beginning – afresh with new days, new opportunities, new challenges. It occurs to me, however, that it is a very difficult task to keep from concentrating on past years and the sadness we endure just because it is a new year and the calendar has flipped the page.
Moving on to a brighter tomorrow and letting go of the pain of yesterday is a gradual process. We cross that threshold one step at a time – a small step, at first, faltering and stumbling – but somehow getting there. With patience, effort and persistence, once again we will be able to celebrate life as the year stretches on before us, putting behind us our sadness, our guilt, our failures and our pain.
We will be able to smile again. We will be able to remember our precious children in life rather than death. We will recognize in our days many little blessings and will be able to share our joys with others.
Alice Weening
SNOW
Every snowflake that falls is unique and has itsown individual design. There are beautiful patterns in each snowflake and even the tiniest of flakes have their own markings. These patterns change again and again…even after the flake touches the ground. Each snowflake is a cause for wonder; each flake is one of a kind. No two are exactly alike.
Like the snowflake, our beautiful children were unique and special; some we only dreamed about and some danced upon the earth. They filled our lives with wonder and transformed our world. We held them too briefly, but we will hold them in our hearts forever.
We shall remember them always.
At this time of remembering, it may help to reflect upon how our lives have been enriched by the love we have given and the
love we have received from our children. Our children leave treasures behind that time can never take away.
~ Denise Falzon, TCF/Lake Area, MI