Walking Through Grief in the Holidays

Warning: there are no scientific facts to follow, no five-step program to make it easier. Just a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, trying to make it through this season. Full of grief.

January will mark one year since my dad died. And honestly, I’ve been prepared for the difficult stuff coming with the holiday season. I wasn’t, however, prepared for the little happenings that would stop me in my tracks. Like, taking his name off the emergency contact list at the kid’s schools. Woah. Who knew that would wreck me?

But as we get closer and closer to the end of the year, it is getting harder and harder to absorb what’s missing.

Let me give you a rundown of what this looks like for my family:

• Thanksgiving
• December 15- my anniversary
• December 17th- my parent’s anniversary (it would have been their 53rd)
• December 21st- my mom’s birthday
• Christmas
• January 2nd- the day my dad went to be with Jesus
• January 9th- his birthday (yes, we’ve gone through this day before, but it was all such a blur)

Not to mention, the chorus concerts, band concerts, parades, dance recitals, and church musicals where Pops’s absence will be tremendously felt. It’s like we are just hanging on by a thread, waiting for the next event. And these events are a crazy mix of sadness and joy, hard and lovely, past and present. I’m not sure how to do it.

I feel like I need a plan. I have to figure out some ways to help weather this emotional roller coaster. I mean, the Christmas season is chaotic enough, but wrapped up in grief is a whole other level!

In no particular order:

I’m going to wear pajamas and sit in it– There will be a few weekdays when I set the kids free with technology, grab a cup of tea, and allow myself to sit. As long as I need. And I can wallow. I can allow myself to feel whatever I need to feel. This is what I know: I can’t stay in this place. I will make sure I have some accountability in these days, because without it, I may never leave.

I’m going to keep myself busy and pretend it’s not happening– It’s true. I’m going to block it out. I’ll shop and bake and wrap and visit and entertain and try to forget. There are so many beautiful things to experience during this season and I don’t want to miss them. And if I happen to block out that I’m sad for a few minutes, I’ll take it!

I’m going to pay attention to the life around me– No one knows how long we have. If I’ve learned anything in the past two years, life can change in an instant. That is soooo cliché, but way too true. I’m gonna smell and taste and touch and watch. I’m going to take pictures on my phone and in my mind and drill some tradition into my kids. Because the traditions carry you through.

I’m going to escape– Yup. We’re going out-of-town. Nothing fancy and for just a few days, but something just needs to feel and look different this year. A break from the norm to create a new memory.

I’m going to remember– My dad was a master tree lighter. A seven-foot tree would have no less than 1200 lights on it. He donned a headlamp so he could adequately see to painstakingly wrap each branch with colored lights. He would step back and admire his work as my mom would warm her hands from the residual heat. We laughed at this all the time, but it was beautiful. And so is the memory. My husband has carried on the tradition, although the lights are white, and I love it.

I’m going to find joy for my family– And in honor of my dad. Let me be clear: happiness and joy are very different things. Happiness is circumstantial. Joy is eternal, deeper. There will be sadness during this holiday, but I can still feel joy. A sweet friend reminded me, “This can be hard, but it doesn’t have to be miserable.” I will dig deep and rely on the faith so embedded in my soul and believe that it can hold us tight.

I’m going to walk in grace– For my family and myself. Knowing that we may not do it well. We may get short with each other and forget why. We may walk a fine line between ok and not ok. And it’s…ok. There are do-overs and thick helpings of forgiveness available. (And just as a side note: For those of you wrapped up in the “Merry Christmas” deal, please remember it isn’t always merry. Sometimes it sucks. So fill your “red cup” with some grace and be ready to pour that over people, and not the semantics of the season.)

At some point, most of us will experience our first Christmas season of grief. It’s a club that no one wants to join, but it’s part of life. The tricky part is learning to go on in spite of it all. I want you to know, fellow griever, that you are on my mind and in my heart. I get it. Let’s make a promise to each other, to love well, walk on, and press in. Let’s do it for those around us that need a dose of Christmas hope.