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I hope you find something here to comfort your grieving heart. Please visit any time.
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DECEMBER'S DEEP GRIEF
Loss Amidst the Merrymaking
Again at Christmas did we weave
The holly round the Christmas hearth;
The silent snow possessed the earth,
And calmly fell our Christmas Eve.
The Yule log sparkled keen with frost,
No wing of wind the region swept,
But over all things brooding slept
The quiet sense of something lost.
Alfred Tennyson
On this page
Deep in December: The Holiday Blues
A Grueling Triathlon: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's
Wandering Through the Wintry World of Loss
How Sad Is Sad? The Difference Between Grief and Depression
December's Child: Helping Children Grieve
We Always...Wrestling with Holiday Traditions
Because We Remember: Finding Comfort In Unexpected Places
December 26th: Relearning the World
Bibliography/Recommended Reading
Links: Coping with the Holidays and Online Support
Memories of birthdays, anniversaries, summer vacations and personal milestones are always there to make grief fresh again. Any "first time around" occasion without our loved one sharpens our awareness of the loss. Go to The Many Faces of Grief for thoughts on other holidays and significant days on the calendar. Once there, click The First Time Around.
Because the shadow that hovers over special events can last a lifetime, I am leaving this page on the site year round for all the seasons of your grief. Please visit any time.
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DEEP IN DECEMBER
The Holiday Blues
I was beginning to do better, I thought I was doing better, but a few days ago,
the holidays just hit me.
A widow, contemplating her first Christmas alone
Quote from Healing After Loss by Martha Whitmore Hickman
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The holiday season is upon us but for many the month of December brings deep grief. We weep with the "quiet sense of something lost" as we recall happier times. The whole world seems poised for celebration while holiday memories flood us and make grief feel fresh again.
Each of us has a list of time-honored traditions, from hanging the stockings or lighting the candles, to baking holiday treats and attending sacred services. They are part of who we are and how we share our happiness with the people we love. Now one of the people we love is gone.
December may be “the most wonderful time of the year,” but it can also be the most painful. There is a profound difference between the external trappings of the season and the way we feel inside. What once delighted us now feels empty and we cringe at all the hoopla. Doesn't anyone know how much we hurt? The gaiety surrounds us and accentuates our feelings of loss.
Retail stores assault our senses with an endless overhead discord of saccharine songs. Every time I hear Silver Bells I want to break somebody's CD. Or, the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of the season fill us with longing of times past and the one who has died. I walked into a bakery the week before Christmas and it smelled like the sugar cookies my mother used to make. The aroma flooded me with grief anew. I walked out without buying anything.
The season brings its own brand of anguish if the holiday memories of our loved one are polluted with drunkenness, fighting, or other forms of dysfunction. Now that our loved one is gone, we know that there is no chance to create happier holiday memories with them. This powerlessness to create new memories with the one for whom we grieve intensifies the loss: it never was, and now, it never will be.
Another difficult period arises when enough time has passed after the death that the grief is in the background, but we have not yet reconciled ourselves to life without our loved one. The dull ache of absence envelops us like fog even as we try so hard to be cheerful.
Sometimes we feel free to talk about our grief with friends or family, and if our grief is brand new, we must talk about it. Sometimes we feel so alone in our suffering that we want to scream.
In some families, sorrow is regarded as a contagious and undesirable condition. It is expected that we be active and in good spirits during the month of December. This often leads to our becoming more sad because we cannot pretend to be cheerful. Even though the calendar dictates it, we do not feel jolly.
According to grief counselor and author Alan Wolfelt, the holiday season complicates grief and heightens pain. He offers the following suggestions to help grievers get through the holiday season: (From the foreword of A Decemebered Grief, page 9.)
1. Talk about your grief.
2. Be tolerant of your physical and psychological limits.
3. Eliminate unnecessary stress.
4. Be with supportive, comforting people. I am most comforted when I spend time with the few (rare) people in my life who know how to listen. They allow me to talk about my grief, or cry, without trying to cheer me up or change the subject. Cheerleaders annoy me.
5. Talk about the person who has died.
6. Do what is right for you.
7. Plan ahead for family gatherings.
8. Embrace your treasure of memories.
9. Ask for help if you need it.
10. Express your faith.
The holiday blues are a normal part of grief. Unspoken gloom hovers over all attempts to celebrate. When this happens, it is best for us to stop, embrace those around us that we trust and hold dear and acknowledge the grief.
Responding to tragedy and loss with sorrow is evidence of our humanity. Grief is an expression of our love for the dear one who has died and it deserves as much respect as joy and happiness. By expressing our sadness, our love, we have a chance at finding new and unexpected tenderness in the season of hope.
NOTE: Grievers don't recover from grief, instead we reconcile ourselves to the loss. In other words, we learn to live with the loss but we are forever changed by it. We cannot judge how much grief is enough grief because it takes as long as it takes to reach reconciliation. For more on the concept of reconciliation, as opposed to recovery, please visit The Grieving Heart from the page name bar, top left portion of your screen.
Men and women do not express the powerful emotions of grief the same way. I once read that when it comes to grief, "women cry and men sigh." In other words, grieving women cry more and want to talk about the deceased loved one while grieving men become quiet, or angry, and busy themselves with projects.
It is important to avoid stereotypes, however. Of course some men shed tears and some women cope with a flurry of activity. There is no right and wrong way for men and women to grieve. Click Tom Golden's Crisis, Grief and Healing from the links below. Helpful for men and the women who love them.
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A GRUELING TRIATHLON:
Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's
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Regardless of our spiritual beliefs and practices, Christmas is all around us, coming at us from every direction. Harold Ivan Smith, author of A Decembered Grief calls the holiday season "a grueling triathlon." (page 13) This test of endurance begins with Thanksgiving and continues unabated through Christmas and New Year's Eve until the last of the football bowl games in early January.
In previous years, we went about our holiday activities and when we heard Merry Christmas or Happy New Year we probably responded in kind. Not this year. This year we want to fast forward to the middle of January. The familiar holiday greetings will cause us to wince. Grief has imposed itself upon us for the grueling triathlon like an uninvited houseguest.
Christmas is a frenzied season full of expectations, obligations and stress. The commitment to Christmas is huge. We must: trim the trees; decorate; bake and cook; ready the house for an onslaught of guests; drive through heavy traffic for all our goods and services; endure shopping cart gridlock at crowded megastores; attend parties and Christmas pageants; look our best; buy, wrap, and mail presents; send cards; visit relatives; and sometimes travel in perilous weather by way of unforgiving and impersonal airlines.
When it’s over, there are bills to pay, thank you notes to write, gifts to return in the chaos of after Christmas sales and decorations to store until next December. We are expected to ring in the New Year with smiles and good cheer. For all the joy it promises, the Christmas season puts intense pressure on people, and if we are grieving, we are heavy laden with impossible burdens.
Grieving women, especially, feel overwhelmed during the holiday season because they are expected to be Christmas magicians, responsible every year for transforming their family's wash-and-wear lives into something festive. No matter how busy or sad they are, they bear the brunt of creating a memorable celebration every December 25.
The Christmas season is not an easy time to do the work of remembering, crying and feeling sad. But we need to grieve our losses anyway and not worry about what anybody else thinks. There is no right and wrong way to celebrate the holidays, or not, after a loved one has died.
A word about Christmas decorations:
Taking down the decorations after Christmas may be easy because we want to rid ourselves of the holiday reminders of our loss. Or, we may want to leave the decorations up a while because they represent our precious memories of the Christmases we shared with our loved one.
I have many beautiful holiday decorations because my mother gave them to me over the years. Mom was in a chemically induced coma throughout much of Christmas week. I spent Christmas Day at her hospital bedside, watching her and talking to her, hoping that she was able to hear me on some inner level.
I made the 100-mile return trip to my home that night. On December 26, I put away all my decorations at a furious pace. I couldn’t bear the sight of any of them. Mom died in January.
During the first Christmas season following her death, I decorated with only a few chosen items. Now, two years later, I am able to unwrap all the decorations she gave me, place them around with care and cherish the memories of a loving mother. But it took time.
When my eight year-old cousin died at Christmastime many years ago, my aunt could not put the tree away until March. Follow your own feelings and trust that you will know what is best for your grieving heart.
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WANDERING THROUGH THE WINTRY WORLD OF LOSS
It Isn't Easy
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As we wander through the wintry world of loss, we doubt we will survive the month of December. We will get through it, but it won’t be easy. We may find unexpected comfort if we talk about our grief with others who are also feeling loss. Online grief support groups offer a safe way to express the strong emotions of grief.
New grief makes us fragile and we are never more fragile, or human, than in the last few frantic days before Christmas. The need to be happy bears down. The pathos of the season overwhelms us. For grievers left with only their memories, Christmas is a time of loneliness and isolation.
We can express the deeper meaning of the season by reaching out to those in need who are also struggling—the poor, the homeless, the sick, and the hungry. As we embrace other lonely people, we remember the reward: giving feels good. We would never have chosen this reward of giving in exchange for our loved one. Not ever. But if we are able to extend a helping hand, and someone takes hold of it, we are not alone anymore.
After a while we may learn that the cherished holiday memory of our loved one, once so painful, now eases the sharp edges of grief and spreads its arms to comfort us, but this will take time. Until then, how do we grieve while those around us are making merry?
One way is to stop and honor the one who has died. My mother once told me that she hoped I would “miss her a little” when she died, or her life would have been in vain. I miss you a lot, Mom!
During the first holiday season after Mom's death, my sister and I hosted a December luncheon at my sister’s house in memory of our mother. We served her favorite Christmas foods on the Christmas china that she gave us. We invited special family and friends. It was comforting to take a break from all the traditional festivities and spend an afternoon reminiscing with those who loved her, too.
Here are a few other suggestions for getting through the holiday season, and please remember that grief, and holiday coping strategies, are deeply personal. Follow inner guidance.
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* Cry if you want to. Your tears are the outward expression of the pain, sadness--and love--that you have inside. Grievers need to cry and cry some more. Tears may come when least expected or they may flow most of the time. In Roman times, tears were captured in small vials and treasured. Now they end up in a wadded tissue at the bottom of a wastebasket.
Most people are very uncomfortable with crying and will scurry for the Kleenex box at the first sign of trouble. They may interrupt you with a "there, there" which translates into Stop Crying Now! I have learned to take a tissue, say thank you, blow my nose and keep crying. By doing so, I am inviting someone else to shed a tear, too.
Tears are part of the language of our deep loss. It takes great courage to be vulnerable. We take time out for coffee and a quick bite. We can also be kind to ourselves and take the time out to cry. Remember: if our tears bother others, it is their problem, not ours. You can be polite, or not; but wave them away, and please, cry if you want to without apology.
* Do not allow others to cast your grief aside. Grieving is the most important work you can do when someone you love dies. Don't let anyone take your grief from you. Nobody expects a person who has undergone major surgery to bounce back the next day as if nothing happened. Yet when people experience traumatic personal loss, they are expected to do just that--get right on with the holiday business as usual, even while they are "bleeding to death" inside.
If you feel your friends are ignoring you, or dismissing your sadness as trivial, speak up! They can't read your mind. Be direct and let people know what is helpful and what is not. Tell them that you are hurting and that talking about the loss, or doing things differently during the holidays, is very important to you. Someone you love has died and you are grieving. Do not cast your grief aside. Remember, too, that you have limited energy right now. Please don't waste it on dismissive or unhelpful people.
Misinformed friends can hurt you unknowingly with their words. Phrases such as "Keep your chin up" or "Get on with your life" diminish your significant loss. People offer tired clichés most often because they don't know what else to say. Commit this response to memory and use it the next time someone tries to "comfort" you during the holiday season by casting your grief aside: "I am sure you are trying to be helpful, but I don't find your words supportive because____________."
True friends, those who really care about you, will thank you for your honesty and be relieved that you gave them some direction on how to help you. Treasure their friendships and use them for valuable support. Fair weather friends will get defensive and disappear.
* Say your loved one's name out loud and stop the generic use of pronouns. Soon after a loved one dies, family and friends start saying, "he died or she died" rather than "John died, or Carol died." A strange conspiracy of silence looms that suggests whatever you do, don't say the name of the deceased out loud or speak of the dead. Out of sight, out of mind.
As a griever, you have every right to challenge the use of impersonal pronouns. Your loved one has a name that you treasure! Deliberately say it: John loved the New Year's football games, or Carol loved Christmas Eve. Your free use of your loved one's name will encourage others to use it as well. As an unexpected bonus, you'll be setting an example that others will remember when their turn to grieve comes.
* Don’t let the holidays overtake you. Plan how you want to spend the actual day. You may choose to work on Christmas Day, if you have this option, giving a coworker the opportunity to spend the holiday with his or her loved ones. Whatever you decide, let your family know in advance of your plans. See the next entry.
* Expect criticism! Or at least raised eyebrows and editorial comments. Families may or may not be supportive of your grief style. Siblings will grieve differently following the death of a parent, or other sibling, because each of you had your own unique relationship with your deceased family member. Maybe you want to stay home or change how the family does things this year. Something is bound to confuse or annoy a family member or someone in your extended social network.
Perhaps your friends have not yet lost loved ones. Criticism is often based on ignorance or lack of perspective. Other people are just thoughtless clods. It may sound too simplistic, but sometimes the best thing to do is ignore the criticism and do what you need to do to take care of you. When you feel the pressure to "perform" this holiday season, remind yourself: I am grieving and I need to (blank) this year for me. I'll decide about next year when it is next year.
* Don’t overextend yourself. You do not have to shop, bake, decorate, send cards, go to parties, or entertain, if you are not up to it. Observe your own quiet holiday. On this first Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Year's Eve without your loved one, give yourself permission to take a break from all the fuss and take the time to grieve. Believe this in your heart: You do not owe anyone a reason for your grief or an explanation of your grieving style.
* Think about the upcoming religious services. Will the sacred music of the season comfort or upset you? What do you believe will be the overall emotional effect? If you want to attend, sit in the back so that you can leave quietly if you become overwhelmed. Sometimes a church family offers valuable support, other times the sight of happy families is a brutal reminder of all that you have lost. Only you can decide how much or how little to particpate this first December without your loved one.
* Contemplate the holiday invitations. "I cannot do this" will be on your lips a lot this month. Are the people who issued the invitation good friends or casual acquaintances? What is the tone or tenor of the party? Will it be quiet or raucous? An intimate get-together or filled with people you barely know? If you decide to attend, drop-in events may be easier: you are free to arrive late and leave early.
Consider the possiblity that no one is expecting you to be the life of the party, but they are letting you know that you are welcome to attend. More than once grievers have decided to put in an appearance and had a moment of unexpected tenderness from someone's kind remark or gesture of friendship. You never know where comfort resides. Only you can decide what you need to do, or not do, to take care of yourself this holiday season.
* Here's an interesting flip side to the party invitations: they may stop coming because some hostesses will find you too emotionally unpredictable. You might, heaven forbid, cause a scene. What if you break down and start crying all over the cheese and crackers? Yes, it's shallow, but very few hosts want a party pooper at their holiday party.
If you were part of a couple, and now you are alone, you may not get invited and it won't be an oversight. In many ways, sad but true, it is a couples kind of world. Yes, the loss of an invitation may hurt you deeply, even wound. But think of it this way: trying to fit into the seasonal frivolities of others may frustrate, sadden, anger, or wound, you even more.
* Sometimes holiday traditions are comforting after a death and sometimes they are not. Use old holiday rituals, the ones you enjoyed with your deceased loved one, only if they comfort you.
* Think about creating new traditions, as well. Because new traditions can be so different from the old ones, they will have no painful memories of how you shared them with your loved one. Traditions can be stored, recycled or trashed. Give yourself permission to at least ask: What if we did (blank) this year?
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* Be careful with money. In the season of spending, you may be uncertain of your new financial situation. If the death was recent, you may find yourself going overboard in an attempt to generate some holiday spirit.
Or, you may be tempted to have a "let's make it up to them for all they've been through" season of gift giving. If this happens, stop a moment to examine the motives behind your spending. Ask yourself: What do I really need this Christmas to balance my life?
My own grief has reminded me that I cannot buy happiness. I find myself looking for thoughtful ways to give of my time, rather than giving "stuff." I am doing things I probably would not do if I were not grieving, such as inviting a widow to a dinner that I served on the Christmas china my mother gave me. The widow was grateful and I experienced unexpected tenderness.
* Advent is a season of longing and longing is a notable part of grief. If your holiday memories are painful because of your loved one’s negative behavior, take a moment to imagine how it could have been different. What would you like to have happened?
Write your perfect Christmas Day on paper. Read it out loud. What will you say to your deceased loved one? Imagine what he or she will say in return. This will not change the past, but it may help you heal hurts and misunderstandings so that you can create a better future.
* Practice balanced recall. Even the most cherished and loving relationships are complex. To love someone profoundly is to know that person in his or her weakness and strength. Would you want the dear one who has died to be without flaws? Such a person would bear little resemblance to the one you love. No more than that person would want perfection from you. You wouldn't be recognizable, either. Love makes all kinds of allowances--and keeps on loving.
My father was irritable during the month of December. He didn't like the spending or the glitter of a material Christmas. His dark mood often cast a shadow over our festive events. Growing up, and for a long time after, when I thought of Dad and Christmas, I thought of Scrooge.
Yet, if I practice balanced recall, I remember other things about Dad and Christmas: I remember him trudging in the snow to the back of the farm to cut a perfect Christmas tree for us; I remember his fine tenor voice when he sang "Adeste Fidelis" entirely in Latin; I remember his delight in "The Chipmunk Song" and how he played it over the loud speaker for the children at the grade school where he taught on the last day before Christmas vacation.
I remember him reading me "Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus" and telling me that O. Henry's Gift of the Magi was the finest Christmas story ever written; I remember him reciting "A Visit from St. Nicholas" by heart; I most remember him carrying me upstairs to bed one Christmas Eve because I had fallen asleep by the tree waiting for Santa.
As a child, I had a limited vision of my father. Adult grief has given me a broader perspective. After his death, more than a dozen years ago, when the flurry of our relationship had settled, I came to understand the goodness and difficulty we were in each other's lives and to appreciate the deep love underneath it all.
* Take care of yourself. There is much we don't know about the relationship between mind, body and spirit but one thing is certain: we are at greater risk for accident, injury, infection and disease after suffering a serious loss.
Destructive behavior, such as excessive alcohol or drug intake, prolongs grief and makes the loss even more painful over the long haul. Prolonged grief can cause reactive depression. (See below) Physical ailments and insomnia are normal expressions of grief, but please see a health professional if you are having troublesome symptoms of any type.
* Take the time to nurture yourself. Perhaps you have been so busy helping other family members grieve that you have ignored your own needs. Or, you've been tangled in the legal and financial responsibilities of settling the estate. Whatever your circumstances, you may be compromising your own health through neglect. Whether it is enjoying a long hot soak, turning off the cell phone to read a book, or going for a walk, please take the time to nurture yourself.
Visit Survivor's Guide by clicking the navigation bar to the top left of your screen for more ideas on how to cope with the demands of the outside world at a time when it is very hard to focus.
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HOW SAD IS SAD?
The Difference Between Grief and Depression
A mourner looks outside and sees the world as poor and empty, while a depressed person looks inward and sees the self that way.
From Finding Your Way through Grief: A Guide for the First Year, page 31
By Marty Tousley, RN, Certified Bereavement Counselor
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When grieving people feel sad we often say that they are depressed, but the sadness from grief is not the same as the sadness of depression because grief is not an illness. Grief is the emotional, psychological, physical and spiritual pain we feel when a person close to us dies. It is a normal human reaction that must be expressed because of our love and attachment to the deceased loved one. Sadness is an expected part of grief and it is a natural response following the loss.
Depression is a treatable illness and one of several common mood disorders marked by loss of interest or pleasure in living, decreased self-esteem, shame, feelings of hopelessness and despair. Many people suffering from depression cannot imagine ever feeling better. The mood disturbance in depression is pervasive and unremitting and any positive mood fluctuation is usually minor without treatment intervention.
Shame and guilt are common in depression. When they occur in grief they often involve feelings of not having done enough for the deceased before his or her death, or regret over things said and done while the person was alive. In depression, the feelings arise from a fundamental belief that one is wicked or worthless.
Persons who have experienced previous depressions are especially at risk for becoming depressed at times of profound loss. Treating a griever’s clinical depression is a balancing act because sadness is an appropriate, natural stage of loss and clinical depression is a disorder. As difficult as they are to endure, both sadness and depression slow us down and take us to deeper places that allow for healing.
Major depression, however, has the potential to become a medical emergency with risk for suicide. For the most part, grievers do not want to kill themselves, but the threat of suicide from anyone must be taken seriously. To read more about suicide, please click Letters from the Heart from the secondary pages below.
In the United States, one in ten men and one in five women will suffer from depression at some point in their lives. Grief is universal to any person who experiences loss. Depression and grief share many features: sadness, tearfulness, anger, anxiety, loneliness, social withdrawal, forgetfulness, appetite and weight changes and poor sleep.
Grievers can also lose interest or pleasure in living, and cannot imagine ever feeling better because life is unbearable; but the mood fluctuations come in waves washing over the griever and the dark moods respond to empathy, support, and most of all, the passage of time. Even in deep raw grief, moments of happy reminiscences are possible.
Grief, although intensely painful and sad, moves us towards learning how to live without our loved one in a forever-changed world. The reactive depression of prolonged grief, however, is a destructive "stuck place" that causes us even more pain because we cannot move forward.
Friends and family often react to sadness by avoidance or becoming eternal cheerleaders because most people cannot tolerate melancholia for extended periods of time. Please remember that you need to feel your sorrow in order to heal. Seek out those few who can sit with you without telling you to cheer up or get on with your life.
Grief has no timetable and no absolutes. Grief may be universal, but we all grieve in our own way. How bad do we have to feel before we seek outside help? There are moments in all our lives when we can benefit from professional counseling but only you can decide: How sad is sad?
Learn more about the differences between grief and clinical depression at the Grief Counselor link below.
The information presented here and at the grief counselor site is general and is not intended as medical advice. Please get professional guidance if you need it.
Depression Information Source: Kaplan and Sadock’s Synopsis of Psychiatry. Ninth Edition, Philadelphia, PA: Lippincott Williams and Wilkins, 2003, pg. 63.
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DECEMBER'S CHILD:
Helping Children Grieve
NOTE: I am not an expert on children because I have no children. I wrote this section because of my own memory of childhood grief at Christmastime.
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After the death of a beloved family member, children may experience the same sorrow as adults but be unable to express it. Some adults assume that children are incapable of understanding loss or that they do not grieve for long. I believe, however, that children comprehend more than we realize and the grief from childhood can last a lifetime. December's deep grief is even more complex. How can you help your child during this difficult time?
Children respond best to honesty from adults and reassurance that they are loved no matter how they feel. Bereavement experts agree that one way to help children of any age grieve is to have an open discussion with them. Children are bright and they want to know why things are different now. Not only do conversations offer the opportunity to explain any holiday changes, but they also allow for questions that your kids might have. It is very important for them to understand that they are in no way responsible for the death. Simple, direct and honest answers work best.
Before the age of seven, children think in metaphors, not adult logic. Play is the work of a child, and through play, they communicate, relieve anxiety, learn about the world and attempt to master what they cannot understand. They need age-appropriate play activities to safely express their feelings. Such creative outlets include drawing, coloring, story-telling, working with puppets, dolls, toy cars, trucks and playdough.
If your child is old enough for arts and crafts, you might try making a collage together to remember your loved one. All it takes is a pile of old magazine, some cardboard, scissors, glue and your imagination. Cut out pictures and words from the magazines that remind you of the person who has died or the places you visited together. Then create a collage pasting these pieces on poster board or cardboard.
You and your child can also put together a scrapbook on the life of your loved one using pictures, newspaper clippings, bits of ribbon, pressed flowers, and any other little mementoes you have on hand. If you like, you can give the collage or scrapbook a Christmas theme and leave it on display throughout the holiday season. If you prefer more privacy, you might want to share your handiwork with only family and close friends. Or, keep the collage as a labor of love between you and your child. Trust that your grieving heart will let you know what is best for healing.
Remember, too, that children perceive death differently at various ages. Toddlers believe that death is a temporary separation and the loved one is gone a while but will return. From ages three to five, children view death as reversible, meaning they can play dead for a time but will pop back to life.
Not until about age six (ages five to nine) do children sense the permanence of death, but they aren’t yet convinced that it comes to all living things. Children around the age of ten have the emotional and mental capacity to understand the finality of death.
All children handle honesty, however painful, better than deception used for a more palatable reality. For example, telling a child that Grandpa is “asleep” may make the child afraid to go to sleep for fear that she, too, will die.
Some grieving children get confused because their friends at school are happy and excited about the holiday season. Why is everyone so sad at home? Children do not grieve as adults because they have the ability to blend their grief with the normal activities of childhood. They can deeply grieve while still wanting to carry on with Christmas.
One way you can help your grieving child carry on with Christmas is to offer a small gift a day for the month of December. Set a pretty basket in a special place and fill it with inexpensive items that you buy at the grocery or discount store: candy, costume jewelry, perfume, miniature toys, coloring books, crayons, and the like. Starting with December 1, your child opens one gift a day ending on December 25. You and your little one can then anticipate a pleasant moment together every day instead of only dread or sadness as Christmas approaches.
I had only one living grandparent and she died on December 22 when I was four years old. Her calling hours were on Christmas Eve and her funeral the day after Christmas. Mom spent Christmas Day at the funeral home grieving the death of her mother.
I was very young, but I remember being sad that my grandmother was dead; however, at age four, I expected her to come back to life. I was worried, too, that my mother was crying. Did I cause her sadness? I also remember eagerly anticipating a visit from Santa. Santa did arrive that Christmas Eve through the loving efforts of Mom's dear friends.
I was so excited on Christmas morning because Santa brought a Tiny Tears doll. After feeding her a bottle of water, she cried the tears that I was too young to shed. Decades later, I can close my eyes and recall this sad Christmas like I am four again.
But I was fortunate. There were caring adults in my life who nurtured me when my grief-stricken mother could not. Sometimes surviving parents are too sorrowful themselves to help their own children grieve. Please consider professional grief counseling if you or your child needs it.
To learn more, please visit www.fernside.org, a center for grieving children. Link does not open a new window. Use your back button to return here. If you wish to open a new window, visit the Internet Resources page and click on Fernside.
REFERENCE FOR DECEMBER'S CHILD:
Crenshaw, David A., Bereavement: Counseling the Grieving Throughout the Life Cycle, New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 1996.
Fitzgerald, Helen. The Mourning Handbook, New York: Fireside Books, 1994.
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WE ALWAYS...
Wrestling with Holiday Traditions
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Traditions are a great part of holiday joy, but when our loved one always participated a certain way and he is no longer with us, we wrestle with what to do now.
Perhaps you have always had a home-cooked family dinner. This year you can make reservations and go to a restaurant. The essence of the tradition, the family gathering, is still there, but the setting has changed for this year. Next year you can decide again.
My family always had Thanksgiving at my sister’s house. On the first Thanksgiving following Mom's death, it was too painful because Mom was in attendance the year before. So, we had Thanksgiving at my house, 125 miles away, for the first time ever. Mom never attended the actual holiday in my home.
Serving her favorite foods in different surroundings was good for us because we combined the old traditions of food with a brand new setting. Of course, there was a sad vacancy at our table, but it wasn’t as profound as if we had spent the day at a place so filled with her memory.
During November, the traditional month to honor the dead, I set one place at the table in memory of both my parents. I freely shared loving memories of Mom and Dad, and encouraged others to do the same. I laughed a little and cried a lot. It helped.
You might also combine rites of mourning with your traditional seasonal activities:
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* Place evergreens on the grave the day of your family celebration, or Christmas morning. Be creative on your visit. Read a passage from the Christmas story, sing a carol, cry if you want to, reminisce about holidays spent together, or simply share the silence with love.
* If your place of worship decorates the altar for the season, buy a poinsettia in your loved one's memory.
* Spend some time looking at past holiday photos that show your loved one enjoying the festivities. At first, this may be too painful, but over time, photos and the moments that they capture can provide great comfort.
* Set up a favorite picture with a few holiday greens around it. If others in your family do not find this comforting, or you do not wish to share, you can place the display in a less obvious location of your home. You will know it's there.
* Talk out loud to your deceased loved one. Tell them of your holiday plans and how much you miss them. I have found this oddly comforting. Sometimes I am filled with warmth and love when I talk to my mother and she feels very near. Other times not much happens but I feel better anyway. Do this only if it feels right to you.
* Set a place at your holiday table for the loved one who is no longer with you. Before the meal, ask each member of your family to share a favorite holiday memory of the one who has died.
* If you have a Christmas tree this year consider buying a live tree that you can plant in your loved one's memory after the holidays are over. Take comfort in the knowledge that evergreens are everlasting.
* Buy a remembrance Christmas ornament and have it engraved with your loved one’s name. Hallmark has some beautiful angels that come with lovely poetry. Give them as gifts to family and friends who loved him/her, too.
* Better yet, create your own ornament that symbolizes the dear one who has died. You may find hollow, clear ornaments in craft stores that can be filled with symbols of the life of your loved one. My mother loved redbirds, as she called them, so a cardinal ornament was a natural choice for me.
* Make the creation of special ornaments a family event, if appropriate. Include children. Gather everyone around the tree and let each person explain the significance of the ornament before hanging it. Sing your loved one's favorite carol.
* Invite the gift of memory. If you are having family or close friends over, place a basket with writing paper, or a scrapbook, near the door. Ask your guests to write down a favorite holiday memory of your loved one. You can either read them for all to hear or save the basket of written memories for a private time. Or, call in advance and ask your guests to write down a favorite holiday memory to bring with them. Place the recollections in a basket when they arrive. Make a beautiful memory book out of it later. Include favorite holiday photos of your loved one.
* Consider giving items that belonged to your loved one as special Christmas presents, but be careful with this one. You want the recipient to treasure your precious gift. Make your gift list with care and please do not give away items that belonged to your loved one until you are ready.
Dad owned a beautiful railroad pocket watch and chain that had been in the family for about 100 years. He kept it in perfect working order. After Dad died, my sister and I gave the watch to his great-nephew who works for the railroad. The pocket watch remains among our cousin's most prized possessions, but it took several months before we were ready to give away our father's precious heirloom.
* If your loved one always carried out a certain holiday tradition, such as reading a favorite story on Christmas Eve, do so this year in his or her memory.
* Acknowledge, too, that some traditions may be so precious, and unique to your loved one, that you do not wish to continue them after his or her death.
Every year my mother gave Christmas stockings to my sister and me, even into adulthood. The items were small but useful—toothpaste, paper clips, socks, post-it notes, pens, and the like. I received mine in the mail and she always marked it “From Santa.” Then sometime during the next year, I would return the stocking to her, tell her to thank Santa for me and she would load it with treasures again the following December.
The year after Mom died, my husband offered to fill the empty Christmas stocking for me. I thanked him for his thoughtfulness and said no. Some people might take comfort in maintaining the tradition. I do not. This one belonged to only my mother.
* Give to your loved one's favorite charity in his or her memory.
* Donate a children's holiday book to the public library in memory of your loved one.
My mother was a librarian and was often in charge of the children's story hour. After her death, the school where my sister was principal donated a reading chair for story hour to the library in my mother's memory. It was a beautiful wooden rocking chair, her favorite, engraved with a gold plate of her name. It was a thoughtful gesture. The point is, with some loving reflection, you can do something lasting to commemorate your loved one's life and perhaps beautify an area or help others in the process.
* To paraphrase Shakespeare, give sorrow words because the grief that does not speak will break your heart. Write a holiday letter to the dear one who has died or keep a holiday diary. Writing can help you safely express all the complex emotions you have surrounding the season and the absence of your loved one.
You can write the holiday letter or diary any time, but you might want to make a ceremony out of it by writing it on Christmas Eve and burning it in your fireplace, or in a fireproof container, on New Year's Day. Or, perhaps you will want to read it at the gravesite and keep it forever. To learn more about grief and writing, please visit the Give Sorrow Words page.
* Let the ideas on this page help you generate your own sacred observances. It bears repeating: Grief rituals are deeply personal. Your heart will let you know what you need in order to grieve. The word inspiration comes from the Latin word 'inspirare' meaning into breath or in spirit. Stay open to inspiration and please follow inner guidance.
The deaths of both my parents and my best friend threw me into a club that I didn't want to join. I didn't want to be a griever. I was fortunate, however, because my mother loved Christmas. She did everything possible to make the season special for my sister and me despite the fact her own mother had died on December 22. When I was little, I would see Mom quietly cry in late December and I did not understand the reason why. Now I know.
The Christmas season was bittersweet for her, yet she continued living her life well and brought joy to others in the process. Regardless of my sadness, I sense my mother would want me to look for beauty and love in the season wherever I can find it; and yes, miss her a little, too.
From Healing After Loss by Martha Whitmore Hickman, December 23 entry:
At this season of the year—so filled with memories, and for most people, family occasions—sometimes our grief seems all but unbearable. And grief is often especially sharp around holiday occasions.
But after awhile we begin to savor the recall of those gathered times when we were all together, when the tenor of the days was festive and mutually cherishing. If our loved one had a particular role in the rituals of the season, we who take over that role may feel a special bond with the one who is gone.
So memory nourishes the heart, eases the sharp edges of grief, and whether or not we speak of it to each other…gathers us as one family in the great human stream of life.
In my memory I can live with my loved one again, and be glad.
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BECAUSE WE REMEMBER
Finding Comfort in Unexpected Places
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I have a love-hate relationship with poetry. When my grief was brand new, poetry that acknowledged the pain of my loss eased my suffering more than promises of heavenly reunions. I must admit, the Helen Steiner Rice poetry gets on my nerves. When it comes to grief, I'm just not that evolved. I understand people were trying to send me supportive cards, but in the midst of sorrow, it is hard to take the long view. At least it was for me.
When Mom died, I wanted to throw some of the drippy sweet cards against the wall. I would read one of the "uplifting" poems and think: I know I am supposed to be happy that Mom is in heaven, but I am sad because she died. Doesn't anyone recognize my grief?
Well-intended, but empty, phrases such as "Don't be sad. Your mother is an angel now" didn't comfort me. I wanted to scream, "If I'm not sad when my mother dies, when am I sad? I'd rather have her here on earth with me." For more on the unhelpful things people say to the newly bereaved, go to Grief Takes Turns. Once there, click Good Intentions, Unhelpful Remarks.
Over time, and to my surprise, I am finding solace in unexpected places. Verses and books that used to irritate me now teach me that death ends a life, but it does not end my relationship with the one who has died. I would never have chosen this path, but thinking of Mom waiting for me in heaven does have a certain appeal.
For this reason, I am sharing a poem, a book and a bit of prose with you here. My intention is to comfort you in your sorrow, but if the poem or prose increases your sense of loss, or the book offends you, please scroll past them and know that we all grieve in our own way and in our own time. What helps me may not help you; or, the timing just isn't right.
My sister gave me a Hallmark remembrance ornament. The pewter angel had a poem on the back of the keepsake box. It appears below and seems fitting for the holiday season.
ALWAYS REMEMBERED
©Hallmark, Inc. 2006
I know I am still with you
in your prayers, your thoughts, your heart,
And though you cannot see me,
I will always be a part
of life's sweet celebrations
in those times when you reflect
on how, though things are different,
through our love, we still connect.
We'll see each other someday
when our spirits all are free,
until then, I am with you
because you remember me.
During the first December after Mom's death, I bought simple Christmas stationery and matching envelopes for the printer. The only decoration was a border of evergreen and holly. Using an eloquent calligraphy font, I copied and spaced the "Always Remembered" poem onto my word processor in ink that matched the red of the garland. I typed "In loving memory of" at the bottom and before I printed each copy onto the stationery, I completed the page with the name of a special person.
I sent the personalized poem to friends and family instead of Christmas cards. This was my way of acknowledging that most of the people I know have experienced profound loss, too, and I remember that I am not alone in my sorrow during the Christmas season.
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GONE FROM MY SIGHT
By Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky came to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says, "There, she is gone!"
"Gone where?"
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, "There, she is gone!" there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"
And that is dying.
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This is the newest addition to my grief bookshelf:
DuBois, Allison. We Are Their Heaven: Why the Dead Never Leave Us. New York: Fireside Books Simon and Schuster, 2006.
From the woman who inspired the NBC TV show Medium. Those who have crossed over continue to provide us with love, guidance, comfort and support, but the dead have a language of their own. The author teaches us how to recognize, read and interpret signs from our loved ones on the other side.
Soulful signs from our deceased loved ones are all around us if we look for them. Messages will come in simple forms, like a familiar smell or a loving thought, and little things do mean something. There are no coincidences. You may have to wait until the powerful emotions of acute grief subside for your loved one to get through, but welcome their loving presence when they do.
The book is about life, death and the unbreakable connection of love. I found it comforting and believable, and if all of this is in my imagination, well, God also gave us our imaginations.
Perhaps you, too, will find comfort in unexpected places when you need it the most.
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DECEMBER 26th:
Relearning the World
Time does restore to us our quiet joy in the spiritual presence of those we love, so that we learn to remember without pain, and to speak without choking up with tears. But all our lives we will be subject to sudden small reminders which will bring all of the old loss back overwhelmingly. Elizabeth Watson
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Many years ago my mother gave me a little Christmas pin in the shape of a striped candy cane cat with a green bow on its tail. It wasn’t expensive but I loved it. Every year I wore it on my coat and people frequently commented on its charming appearance.
During the second Christmas season after Mom's death, I lost the pin. It fell off my coat while I was running holiday errands. I retraced my steps, gave my name and number to all the retail lost-and-found departments, and of course, I never saw it again.
I came home after my frantic search and cried as though Mom had died yesterday. She was gone and now so was her little candy cane cat. The piece of jewelry had no monetary value but it was priceless to me. Losing the pin that Mom gave me symbolized the loss of my mother at Christmas. I was caught off guard by the raw force of grief two years after her death.
Sudden small reminders, and large ones, too, can overwhelm us at this festive time of year. We thought we were doing better, but here we are, crying as though our loss was yesterday. If our loss was recent, we almost expect the intensity of new grief. If it was a while ago, we are often surprised by the powerful emotions of grief bursts.
We are relieved that the season is almost over because we no longer feel pressured to make merry. But we are about to enter another year without the physical presence of our loved one and Christmas doesn't mend a broken heart. What do we do with our grief now?
Piece by piece, I am relearning the world. The razor’s edge of grief, so sharp at Christmastime, has given way to the dull ache of permanent loss. Despite my sorrow, I have had moments of unexpected comfort throughout the holiday season: the contented purr of my cat, red cardinals against the backdrop of a gray winter day, the beauty of twinkling Christmas lights on a clear moonlit night, a book of hope and healing, the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee in the morning, a heartfelt letter from a dear friend, and the gratitude of a widow when I invited her to dinner. I used to take small comforts for granted. I don’t take anything for granted anymore.
Sometimes, when I am alone and missing her the most, I stop my activities and call out to the heavens: Where are you, Mom? What are you doing this very moment? Are you with Dad? Can you hear me? I love you. Do you still love me? If I am able to quiet myself enough to listen, I sense that the answer is a resounding Yes! And I feel at peace.
May you, too, find unexpected comfort and loving memories as you relearn the world through all the seasons of your grief.
NOTE ON GRIEF BURSTS: Click Shadow Grief from the Grieving Heart page to learn more about the bursts of grief that last a lifetime.
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BIBLIOGRAPHY / RECOMMENDED READING:
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NOTE: For book overviews and suggestions for helping grieving friends during the holiday season, please visit The Gift of Love.
Hickman, Martha Whitmore. Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief. New York: Perennial Press, An Imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, 1994.
Holiday Hope: Remembering Loved Ones During Special Times of the Year. Compiled by the Editors of Fairview Press, illustrations by Randy Scholes. Minneapolis, MN: Fairview Press, 1999.
Smith, Harold Ivan. A Decembered Grief: Living with Loss While Others Are Celebrating. Boston: Beacon Hill Press, 1999.
Wolfelt, Alan. Healing Your Holiday Grief: 100 Practical Ideas for Blending Mourning and Celebration During the Holiday Season. Fort Collins, CO: 2005.
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LINKS:
Coping with the Holidays and Online Support
Links open new windows.
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My E-mail: TheGrievingHeart@aol.com
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A remembered love is not simply a recollection of a bygone past, but a living force
which sustains us in the present. Through memory, love transcends the limits of time
and offers hope at any given moment of our lives. Henri Nouwen
© Copyright 2008 Christine Jette. All rights reserved.
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