Letter to the Grieving — Holidays
Dear grieving one, Hanukkah is past and Christmas is close at hand while I write this. We have (checks notes) two weeks until The Big Days and are past The Big Days if Hanukkah is your holiday. I am writing this in 2021, but the date — and the holiday — don’t matter.
What matters is that holidays sometimes bring up a lot in us when our hearts are hurting. I remember growing up, my stepdad could not bear Christmas. He would try, over and over, to put on a festive show. One year he attempted to pop some corn to make garlands — and scorched them horribly, smoke rising to the ceiling. It was the only time he tried helping us decorate. It was my mother’s favorite holiday, and it hurt her year after year that he could not participate.
I didn’t understand it as a little girl. It was Christmas! How could that be sad? I didn’t, and still don’t, know if his father had died around the holidays. I did know that his thoughts turned to his Dad every December. And every December, he would mourn.
I get it now. I was lucky in that my mother didn’t die around Christmas. The memories are strong enough, tender enough, as it is.
It was her favorite holiday, and she went really nuts in her decorating. Trees, ribbons, bells, garlands, shimmering tinsel…all of it. I have many of the ornaments she loved the most. The dollhouse she so lovingly decorated has a full Christmas scene. She made miniature gifts to go under my tiny child’s decorated tree, and some years she would craft for days to make handmade gifts for those she loved.
And she loved well, and fiercely.
So I am glad I only have happy memories in my heart when it comes to my Christmas-crazy beloved Mom.
It could definitely be worse. This year was the first year that I felt like we took back July 4th and had joy. She died June 30, but even before that year, late June and Independence Day were complicated. 4 years before she died, she got really sick during those same days in the summer. And we moved her from my childhood home not long after that.
Last year was 2020, and my father fell and broke his hip just before the 4th — having him in the hospital during such a contagious time with COVID made me more scared for him than I’d ever been. It was a mess.
But this year? This year was different, and that’s why I am writing to you. This year we took the holiday of the 4th of July/Independence Day back. My G found a space to park, away from traffic and crowds, where we could watch the lights. We had dinner together in the dark, lit only by bursts of magnificent sparkling lights. It was amazing. And I feel like we can enjoy the happy parts of summer again, even as parts of my heart will always hurt during those days.
I hope, dear one, if you are grieving this holiday season, that you are able to take back one small part that used to make you happy. Maybe it’s a food item, maybe it’s a favorite movie. Maybe you are reading this just before Arbor Day and you want to plant a tree. Whatever holiday has your heart feeling tender and sore — I hope you can find something joyous that you can keep. It won’t mean you miss your loved ones any less. And it isn’t disrespectful or wrong for you to feel joy. It means you are showing gratitude for the life you have left in you, for all the holidays and moments you have left.
