This year has brought many joys to our community, new babies, pregnancies, marriages, accomplishments. But there is always yin and yang. It has also brought death. Some of you have lost a husband - others a baby, a child.
This can be a hard & difficult time for those of us who have lost this year. Sometimes it's difficult to get through. Tonight as I wait for my kids to go to sleep so I can play Santa - my thoughts turned to you all. To my own Angel babies who have a nameless ball upon our tree. To my friend Michelle & her children as they tackle their first Christmas without Greg. To the other mothers in our community who will go through tomorrow without the child they had believed would spend the day with them.
I tried to find a poem - but none fitted... Then I found this. I hope it not only helps those who have lost but those who are supporting a grieving person.
Merry Christmas - and a special Merry Christmas to those with broken hearts. My thoughts & love go out to you tonight.
“The Christmas cards,” one of the women in the group said, and all the heads nodded slowly.
We had come together to talk about how to get through a Christmas after suffering the death of a loved one. Many in the group were widows, but not all. Children and parents had also died.
The brochure had said “the first Christmas after,” but some of us read it differently. One woman who was there had lost her husband 8 years before. Grief knows no time frame.
“Christmas cards,” I thought, and my stomach turned to lead.
I remembered the first Christmas after my son had died. ‘What happened this year,’ that’s what you always write about. What happened this year is Chet died.
I had always had a photo Christmas card of me and the kids.
There were no Christmas cards that year.
The woman sitting in front of me turned and whispered, “My poor mother. Can you imagine what it will be like to not sign ‘Martha and Fred’?”
I couldn’t imagine.
“How many years?” I asked.
“40,” she replied.
How do you get through that first Christmas (or whichever one it is)? It’s an ordeal. The colors seem garish, the sounds, nerve-wracking, and the people, sometimes like clowns. You walk under a different Star of Bethlehem.
The leader kept trying to get us to suggest areas of concern, but what we did was talk about our loved ones. You love to hear their name, you know? And to speak it. We heard the names, and then asked one another about “Fred,” and “Tina,” and “Dad,” and there were tears and grins.
Some things that can be said about that first Christmas (or whichever one it is) follow. I don’t know that they’ll help, unless information and understanding help, but here they are:
1. When we grieve we have no energy.
Decisions are hard to make, the smallest chore seems monumental, ordinarily joyous things are not, things that used to bother you don’t bother you any more, you don’t defend yourself well, to pretend takes too much effort, and you need lots of rest.
“She is seeking the solace of sleep,” my sister would tell people who called.
Nothing matters. The oven goes out, dinner has to be canceled and you have to reconvene in a restaurant. You wonder why something like that would upset the others so much.
2. Take care of yourself physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually.
Do what you know you should do. Think of a time when it mattered, if necessary – supplements, eating right, rest, talking to someone, keeping your obligations manageable, getting exercise.
Your immune system will be shot. Outsource it. Therapy and support groups bolster your immune system.
3. You can cancel Christmas if you want to.
Sleep, take a walk, or study something intellectual to get your mind off emotional things.
4. You can also change the venue.
One woman took her grown kids downtown to a hotel and they celebrated there.
5. People want to help you and they don’t know how.
Nothing will really help. You just want them back. But let others “do something”. If they ask and you can’t think of anything, ask them to “do something”. They’ll figure it out. Everyone knows houses must be cleaned, dogs walked, groceries bought, and meals prepared.
6. Alcohol doesn’t help anything.
7. Explain what you need.
One woman in the group told us how much she had wanted to have the gathering at her home as usual the first year after her husband’s death, but they wouldn’t let her. Another woman told us how much she didn’t want to have it at her house. How can others know? Tell them.
Say, “If I get up and leave the table, just let me go. I’ll be OK. I’ll come back when I’m ready.”
Half the women there who’d lost husbands wanted to be called a “widow.” The other half hated the word. If someone has to guess, they can guess wrong, so speak out as best you can.
8. You might get some relief helping others – serving dinner to the homeless, or buying gifts for a family in need.
Then again you might not, but at least you’ll have killed some time.
9. What will you do with their Christmas stocking?
One woman set out her husband’s Christmas stocking with a journal beside it for visitors to write in it. Another woman slept with her daughter’s stocking under her pillow.
10. Avoid malls.
You see things you would buy for the one who is gone, you see the happy couples when you are no longer a couple, you see the cherubic face of a little boy who looks like the one you lost.
You hear the music. Even a little is too much. Remember you can turn the radio and television off.
In the words of a caring friend of mine, “Have a Christmas.” You may be hard put to supply the adjective, and that’s okay. If you choose to observe the day, “Have a Christmas,” and understand that those who slip and tell you, “Well, I hope you have a Merry Christmas,” don’t know what they’re saying.
The “firsts” are difficult – the first anniversary, the first birthday, the first Valentine’s Day, the first fall, summer, spring and winter.
“How odd,” you may think, when the first snow falls in the first winter after, or when the first daffodil blooms in the first spring after. “How odd that’s the same when the most important things are not.”
Prescriptions and predictions are annoying. Time does heal many people and it becomes less raw with time; however, if that time does come, it comes at its own pace. Be forgiving of yourself and others, and, well, have a Christmas. Or don’t. One way or another that particular day will pass and you will have survived your first Christmas without them.
Together our group had a holiday memorial to our loved ones, lighting the 4 candles in the Advent wreath. No one knows who wrote the prayer, but here it is:
A HOLIDAY MEMORIAL FOR [YOUR LOVED ONE]
As we light these 4 candles in honor of you, we light one for our grief, one for our courage, one for our memories, and one for our love.
This candle represents our grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It reminds us of the depth of our love for you.
This candle represents our courage – to confront our sorrow, to comfort each other, to change our lives.
This candle is in your memory – the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry with each other, the silly things you did, the caring and joy you gave us.
This candle is the light of love. As we enter this holiday season day by day we cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you. We thank you for the gift your living brought to each of us. We love you.
Hun Hugs what a beautiful thread with lovely words.
Thinking of all of those having there first Christmas without sons, daughters, mums, dads, husbands, grandparents or even friends. May your day be full of memories xoxo
all the love and hugs in the world, to everyone who will not be joining us. my nan finally with pop, my dog, my bird and my guinea pig...first time without you....
to all the named and nameless angels, fly free little ones. xoxoxoxox
and to those who have not joined us...but we wish were here already and to all my ttc sisters. we are one xmas closer to our babies. xoxoxoxox
Tonight as I tucked my two precious boys into bed I had to fight back the tears. Over 4 years have passed since I held you in my arms sweet Harry but not a moment has passed that I haven't been holding you in my heart.
I miss you, what I'd give to be able to tuck my firstborn into bed.
I love you baby boy. As I lay here and the household is asleep I find myself silently weeping for you. You will forever be my special boy.
I don't know why but it's hit me hard tonight. Thinking about the beautiful Michelle and all the people who have suffered. I can't sleep so this thread was just what I needed to see. Thank you for being so thoughtful and posting it.
On Wednesday a friend of mine (the mother of one of DD8's friends) phond to tell me her husband had died at 37 of a heart attack. He died before the ambulance could come to him. He left behind an 8 year old, a 5 year old & a bubba who is 2.
The tragedy of talking to that little girl & hearing her say "my Daddy is dead"... Of listening to my compassionate 8 year old talk to her & both of them wonder to each other where he is and wha he felt...
I wasn't anywhere near as close to her as I am to Michelle but I relived that bewilderment of the feelings we all had (so minimally in respect to what Michelle felt). The feelings we all still have every time one of our community - weather in here or in our town or our family - loses a loved one so suddenly.
It's a ripple that goes throughout - the positive is that it shows how connected we all our, how are hearts all have a common chord that is pulled when there is this type of pain.
I feel yours tonight & I feel all the other posters. Weather it's a parent, a child, a baby, a sibling, a partner - an animal. The grief is real... Even thoe of us that have lost a marriage - itss a grief. But not the same as the heart wrenching loss that comes when that bed is empty or our arms & womb are empty...
I feel all of your pain & I wish I could take it away... Just for a moment.
Thanks for posting this Inanna. I'm resisting going to sleep because I don't want to wake to a Christmas day without Leo. But I will and me and my husband and our families will get through it. We'll never forget or stop loving our precious boy.
Thinking of other bereaved families too. Thinking about all the babylost families. Thinking about Michelle and her little ones at their first Christmas without their dad and husband. Wishing you peace and love.
Thank you. Sitting here in tears feeding my baby and just wishing it was all so different. But feeling very loved as well I'll let you know how the day was when it is over
Thinking of you all today, whether you have lost someone this year, or have been missing them for many.
Hope that you can feel your special loved ones close to your heart today.
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Merry Christmas to the Angels dancing on Stars...
I'll let you know how the day was when it is over
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