BY SARAH STEPHENS, OWNER/EDITOR
The Christmas advertisements are in full bloom. I am seeing a few houses with decorations and lights up as I travel around Elmore and Autauga counties. So, no doubt the season is here, a time of joy and giving. Right?
Not for everyone, unfortunately.
Holidays are traditionally a time for family gatherings and entertaining. However, when you have lost someone that was an integral part of your life holidays can be painful.
This year I have friends who have lost a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling or a best friend. I am watching them wade through waves of grief, and those waves get bigger with any holiday, or anniversary of a death.
This year will be the first Christmas after the death of my husband’s mother. She was a ball of light and love, and she absolutely adored Christmas and collecting snowmen. There will be a huge hole in our family this year, but we are going to try and smile through it anyway. That is what she would want.
Each person’s loss is a very personal thing. I don’t think it is fair to try and compare the levels of grief.
Most of us flounder and struggle mightily when it comes to talking to someone about the loved one they have lost. Tragically, this often leads people to not “bring it up.” I think that is a mistake.
We need to remember those who were such a brilliant part of our life. Yes, there may be painful memories associated, but I think in general most people want to hear the stories and the memories. It is an acknowledgement that their loved one’s life mattered. Their existence meant something. Most importantly, they are not forgotten.
There is a not so funny thing about grief. There really isn’t a time limit on it.
Both of my parents have been gone for almost 10 years now. Those first holidays after their death were awkward and I just stumbled through them, faking a lot of smiles. I cannot say it has become easier, but it is just the new normal. If life progresses in a normal way, children know they are going to have to bury their parents. But, that doesn’t make it any better.
Even this long into my personal journey and grief over my parents, I still have days that I reach for the phone when something good or bad happens. I end up shaking my head, thinking I am losing my mind for not remembering I cannot do that anymore. I do remember, but in a fleeting moment when my mother’s voice, and dad’s calm demeanor would help….I just reach for that phone anyway.
There are those times when a song, a smell or a discovery of an old card or letter just sends me into a fetal position. I don’t want to be a grown up all of the time. Oh, to be able to have mom bring me a bowl of soup and a blanket and tell me to take a nap as she kisses my head.
I can only imagine the horror of having lost a child. That is not the natural order of things, but too many times this year I have sent condolences to a friend for just that loss. I see their memories of a child they lost years ago pop up in social media. The pain of grief is real, and it really never leaves.
So, my wish for everyone reading this for the upcoming Christmas season is simple. I hope that at times you surround yourself with memories and let them embrace you like the hug you wish you could get from the one you miss. Grief doesn’t make you weak. It just reminds you of the great love that was once a call or visit away. Their lives mattered. Their memories should be shared as well.
May this season bring you peace. May you have moments of total exuberance and laughter. May that peace and joy carry you through the times when the weight of sadness comes your way.
But above all, remember there are those that can relate in some way to what you are going through. Talk to your friends and loved ones. Statistically there are a lot more issues with depression/suicide during holidays. It is so important to open up about what you are really feeling to those who can love you through it.
As for me, I will decorate my tree this year paying special attention to the ornaments that Mom loved. I will set up the Nativity and remember my parents explaining what it means. I will sit at Mom’s piano and belt out Silent Night and The First Noel. But the truth is, there will always be something missing.
