The holiday season is calling to us again, the grieving parents of children that we love and lost. We have a different kind of celebration, but it is our own, and for our own reasons, we put up our holiday decorations or decide that maybe next year we can face the world that is so different from our own.
Our world is full of memories of times past and celebrations that were full of our children’s laughter and hopes and dreams.
How can we celebrate this Christmas with our families and make new memories without disrupting our precious memories? What can we do to honor our children who have passed before us and also be in the moment for the other loved ones that want us to be there for them? How can we get the courage to join in with the people who are also left behind to celebrate the life we have been given and to praise God who has already given us permission to have joy and restoration?
Last year, I went to my very first Christmas Eve service with my son and my husband. We sat in the back of our small church and the tears flowed with every Christmas carol. I missed my daughter more than I even imagined. I remembered what my dad said a long time ago when I went to college: “Showing up is half of the grade; just show up and you will see.”
Many of us who have lost children and have suffered through the stages of grief don’t like that feeling of total loss of control. What if I cry in church?What if I just have to leave the service because I am overcome with anxiety and grief, or what if I embarrass myself in front of someone who knows me and my family?
It takes courage to even consider all of these situations. We all need courage to face our holidays and that takes more energy than some of us can arouse in our tired souls. We are tired from what grief has taken from us, and we are already exhausted from the demands that grief requires.
Our wardrobes may be dated, and not only is our fashion not elegant our facial expressions are not in holiday style and our form feels awkward and perhaps out of place. How can we belong when we are so stressed and saturated in sadness? Who wants to be the one that everyone “feels sorry for” at a holiday gathering.
This year, I am faced again with our neighborhood Christmas Party, the neighbors who were all there for us during our most difficult time when our daughter killed over five years ago. They all want to know how we are doing of course, but the Christmas Party is not the time or the place for that conversation.
The Jewish faith has a tradition of not speaking about the dead after a year is past. Perhaps that is a wise tradition but as Christian parents, we continually think and talk about our children and we talk about them as if they are still with us. Jewish practices relating to death and mourning have two purposes and are similar to Christian practices: to show respect for the dead, and to comfort the living who will miss the deceased.
At a holiday party, we should not be in mourning while everyone is celebrating their families and their excitement for the holidays, so if we are still not up to it, should we show up for the party? For the last two- years I have sent my husband off to the neighborhood party with the platter of appetizers and a bottle of great wine but I have stayed at home because I felt so inappropriate.
This year, I am wondering if I should just take my father’s advice and show up to the party. Or maybe I should just try something new in honor of my new life without my daughter, hoping that my neighbors will not take offense. I am opting for the second choice because it is time for me to have a new beginning and as much as I like my neighborhood, I am not the same person anymore and I want something different.
Like a child, I feel as though I need permission to make these choices and it hurts to leave the past holiday traditions behind that I enjoyed so much in my other life when my daughter filled my days with laughter and joy.
Cynthia Ranyak 2010
Tags: Depression, guilt, signs and connections
Dear Cynthia,
You have described your feelings and mine so well. I’m honoring my daughter by doing something I never thought I would do — giving away the grief books I’ve written. So far, I’ve given books to other grieving parents, a local hospice, two churches and AA contacts. (My daughter belonged to AA.) Your article is a gift of giving and I hope you go to the neighborhood party.
Harriet Hodgson
I lost my darling sunflower child shortly after her 21st birthday now almost 5 years ago – and yes the phases of grief as for others come and go, but the memories and the feeling of a part f me not being around remains. I have been blessed to have most beatiful pictures taken of her as a model and at her 21st and find great comfort to have them all over – even two most incredible oil painntings commisioned shortly after her terrible accident – and then to also have her sunflowers around – whichshe so much loved – to me she will always be part of me and my life – – On special days I light a candle and have also errected a commemoration bench in a nature reserve, where I go and sit and just expereince at times the wonderful memories and how she enriched my life and of those around us – we also planted her favouratire umbrella thorn tree at the spot of the car accident on one of the “date” anivarsiries and regularly stop there just for a couple of quiet moments – I also made a public campaign in everthing that I print with a slogan “lights on saves lives”
But I sometimes wonder how does all this display of my darling daughter around me and my house – impacts on others – does there come a time when it all has to come down to maybe one single portrait or picture? If so, I am certainly not there yet!
I may seem to be obessive, but can honestly say I have never expereince the tipical angel and must say am at peace knowing that she is in the better place – on the toher hand, her dad form whom I got divorced shortly before her birth has handled it totally the opposite – even to the extend that he refuses to even talk to the young man who was driving the fatal car, but really I think struggles to come to terms with the loss of our daughter.
Any other views on this from parents in the same situation? I have lost both my mom and sister and must say the grieving process was tipical as normally described – over time it phased and even though I loved them very much their presence in my life has not remained alive as long as that of my darlling daughter Bernice.
Since the death of my daughter I think I have felt the worse pain anyone can feel. I often think of those parents who’ve lost a child in other awful situations, I feel, must be more painful that what I bare. My heart aches for those who can not be sure if their child is still alive or dead (abductions) or those who had to watch their child suffer long painful illness, or know their child suffered before they died (murder) etc.
My beautiful 18 year old daughter was in an auto accident in which she died instantly. It was a violent crossover-highway crash and I know she died because a phycician at the scene wrote and told me all about the first minutes when he was able to check her vital signs. I know when she died, I know how she died, I know she did not suffer. I do not minimize my pain, because I am overwhelmed by it, but I do recognize and have great compassion for those who lost more than one child or those who do not have all the basic answers or those whose suffering began long before the actual death of their child. I have not been to “Compassionate Friends” meetings but I have heard from others that is a great place to find friendship and also to grieve as you choose. Certainly everyone has their own process and our children will always be remembered by the parents who loved them. Many people are uncomfortable with grief because sadness interferes with their immediate moments of their current life. As a parent you are free to memorialize your loved one any way you want, There are no rules but others who have moved on or who are busy “living” their lives may not understand what your needs are so if you feel lonely try the Compassionate Friends, they will embrace you.