Jump to content
Grief Healing Discussion Groups

Tips for Handling the Holidays


MartyT

Recommended Posts

3 hours ago, enna said:

Each year we should celebrate the holidays in new ways because life has taken us to a new place.

This is so true!  And we are forever adjusting to those changes, be it the loss of someone we love, or kids that have moved and don't come home anymore, or not being able to drive at night and thus missing events we once would have attended.  Life is an adjustment in the making.

  • Upvote 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Here is another article from WYG. . . 

 

grief and holiday music

Holiday Music Out of Key: When songs become sad

My Christmas season starts with a quiet tradition; it’s one I picked up from my mother although it was never officially passed down. It doesn’t commence after devouring my last piece of Thanksgiving pie or walking through the doors of Target at midnight on Black Friday; it starts when I get out my tattered copy of the Big Book of Christmas Songs and sit down at the piano and play from Angels We Have Heard on High to Silent Night and every carol in between.

This piano book is my favorite to play; partly because I’m not all that good and most of the songs are so familiar I can fake my way through. But mostly because playing the piano soothes me and allows me to reflect on the past, present and future.  Christmas songs, which are ingrained with nostalgia and memory, are especially prone to send me back to a time when our hearts truly seemed light.

have yourself a merry little christmas

‘The first noel the angels did say..,’ and I’m standing in our church one December morning. My family is spread out over two pews, singing the hymn’s harmonies just a bit too loud. My overly concerned and self-aware family is cautious to never do anything that might be considered showy or obnoxious, except where a harmony line is involved.

‘Away in a manger no crib for a bed…,’and I’m listening to the timid and slightly off pitch crooning of a child’s Christmas pageant.  My mother, the director of the children’s choir, is sitting in front of the singers mouthing the words as a sea of charmed parents sit behind her smiling lovingly.

‘There’s a song in the air! There’s a star in the sky!’ and I’m surrounded by my mother and her teary-eyed siblings as they sing their deceased mother’s favorite Christmas song. I’m unsure of the words or why my aunts and uncles are sad, but I know the moment is important.

Silent night, holy night..,’ and I’m choking through the song’s familiar words at our church candlelight service the year we found out my mother was sick. Fast forward a year and I’m singing with my family in a dim room around a brightly lit Christmas tree on Christmas Eve; each of us wondering how the absence of someone could be so felt so fully.

I had a hard time with Christmas songs in the year or two after my mother died.  A few notes of Judy Garland’s Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas or Bing Crosby’s Silent Night and I was done; a grief side-effect that hardly seemed fair because these were the songs closest to my heart.  

Sometimes the only way I can conceptualize the holidays in the year or two after the death of a loved one is to think of it like a film negative; everything is opposite.  Happy is sad and where we’re used to being filled up with the love and warmth of the holidays, we’re now filled with a well of sadness that bubbles over and erupts into tears at the most unexpected and inconvenient of times.

When you’re grieving, small yet tender reminders like I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas and Hanukkah Oh Hanukkah can shock you and rub you where you’re already raw. As if death hasn’t stolen enough from you already, it greedily takes your ability to enjoy a song you’ve loved for years and sadly I don’t have anything constructive to offer about this other than to say, I understand.

I see you paralyzed in the middle of your shopping because ‘O Holy Night’ has begun playing over the stereo.  I see you crying in church because you’ve just turned to this morning’s hymns and realized it’s ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’.  I see you looking sullen at the office holiday part because ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’ is playing.  I get it. Actually, a lot of people get it.  You aren’t alone.

In the 8 years since my mother’s death these songs have recovered many of their positive qualities, but catch me on the wrong day and they still have the potential to grip my heart and bring me to tears.  Except years later the tears are a mix of happy and sad emotion; they are happiness with a twist. My hope is that at the very least you will someday feel this melancholy fondness (if you don’t already) and as the song goes until then you’ll, “…have to muddle through somehow.”

With the holidays in full swing we want to point our a few WYG resources you might find helpful:

1.  As always, subscribe to receive posts straight to your email inbox

2.  Listen to our podcast on grief and the holidays.

3.  Check out our print grief resource, A Practical Guide for Grieving During the Holidays

 
  • Upvote 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

2nd-holiday-the-worst-FI-2-274x102.jpg

Holiday Grief: When The First Holiday Is NOT The Worst Holiday

Eleanor and I had been feeling like we had said just about everything there was to say about grieving at the holidays and then yesterday our facebook page blew up with people discussing the first holidays after a loss not being the hardest.  The consensus was that this was common and yet totally unexpected for many grievers who just assumed that by year 2 the holidays should be a whole lot easier.  Suddenly we realize, no, we had not yet posted about everything because we have never written about that!  Today’s post will be short and sweet, but I felt like someone needed to say one thing loud and clear before Christmas and New Year’s are upon us: the first holidays are NOT always the worst.  Sometimes they are, for some people they are, but if this holiday is feeling even worse than the first holiday after your loss, that is totally normal.  And when you think about why it kinda makes sense.

Though there can be a zillion reasons year 2 may be worse than year 1, a couple big factors come to mind:

  1. The first holidays were a blur.  This is often true, but especially when you lost your loved one in the latter part of the year.  Everything is a blur, holidays included, so as hard as it was your mind and body may have still been in a shocked state, protecting you just a bit as you muddled through the holidays.
  2. You cut yourself a break during the first holidays.  We know it will be hard and people will (hopefully) be understanding, so it is easier to say no to certain events, skip certain traditions and find support around us.  By holiday 2 we may be finding it harder to say no in the same way.  Remember, there is no set timeline for grief.  You have just as much of a right to cut yourself in year 2 as you do in year 1!
  3. During the first holidays, other people gave you a pass. Early on after a loss we often get lots of support and understanding.  This includes during the first holiday season, during which others are most likely to support us doing what we need for ourselves.  In year 2 and beyond people may not be quite as understanding during the holidays.  Though it can be easier said than done, try not to let those around you pressure you.
  4. The holidays stop being polite and start getting real.  On our facebook page, several people commented that the 2nd year was when it became real that their loved one was truly gone and their holidays would never look and feel exactly the same again.  This, of course, does not mean the holidays can’t still be wonderful, but it does mean they will always be at least a little hard, different and bittersweet.  For whatever reason, that reality doesn’t always set in during year one, but it can hit us like a ton of bricks in year 2, 3 or even beyond.
  5. You thought you would be in a better place this year.  During holiday 1 you may have skipped things altogether, taken a break, scrapped some stressful holiday stuff, all the while telling yourself you would get it together next year.  Well, now it is next year and you are not nearly as ‘together’ as you thought you would be.  You have the pain of the holidays and now you are beating yourself up that you aren’t where you thought you would be.

This is usually the point in a post when we give you some practical ideas on how to cope, but we have about a zillion other posts about dealing with the holidays.  You can read our most recent post on having a happy-sad holiday here, or check out all our past holiday posts here.   The most important thing to remember if your holiday is feeling harder than your first holiday: you are not alone, you are not weird, you are not crazy, you are not grieving wrong, and you are still entitled to cut yourself all the slack you need.

Sending all our good thoughts to get through the holidays and maybe hopefully find just a little joy and gratitude along your way. 

from What's Your Grief 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Here's another article by What's Your Grief. . .

FI-letting-go--274x102.jpg

Grief and The Fear of Letting Go

In the beginning, grief is a fog; a thick, dense, and never ending barrier between you and the world as you once knew it. At one point you figured it would lift, as fog tends to do, but after days and then weeks spent under its heavy cloak, you begin to wonder if it’s become a part of your everyday life. In those moments, you might have thought, “All I want is to feel better,”  because you want to feel normal, whatever that may mean to you. Yet the simplicity of a ‘normal’ existence seems unfathomable.  Impossible even.

Then one day you look around and realize you can see a little further in front of you, things are more colorful, and they’re coming into clarity.  The days start getting a little bit easier, the nights a little more restful.  The tears come a little less and things like laughter, joy, and gratitude are once again a part of your emotional repertoire.  The smallest sliver of light cuts into the dark and you realize that this must be what ‘healing from grief’ looks like.  You also realize that progress doesn’t feel as sweet as you imagined.

“Something feels off,”  you say to yourself. “I should feel better about feeling better.”  

Grief is funny, you know? You desperately want it to go away, except for sometimes when you don’t want it to go away.

Over the course of time, it seems, love has gotten all mixed up with pain and grief.  You realize your pain has become the expression of love lost; the way you honor your loved one; the one consistent link between life with them and life without them; and an element of proof that their life left an indelible mark on those they leave behind.

Apparently, while you were wishing the pain of grief away, it turned into something else entirely.  Maybe, in some ways, grief has even come to define you in the context of life after loss.  Who are you if you are not someone grieving the loss of someone very special?  And who are they if you are not here, in life, holding vigil for them?

If you are grappling with any of these thoughts or concerns, you are not the only one. These sorts of feelings come over many people and they might look a little something like this:

I feel okay today, this must mean I am forgetting my loved one!!

My suffering is a sign of how much my loved one meant to me.  If I’m not suffering my love for them must be diminishing!  

If I stop feeling the deep pain of grief it is a sign life can move on without my loved one and I just won’t let that be true.

I knew how to be a wife and I know how to be a grieving widow, but I don’t know how to be a widow who has good days and is moving forward. 

The only thing that keeps me connected to my loved one and keeps their memory alive is the deep pain of my grief.  Any little piece of that grief that disappears is another piece of my loved one disappearing.

These feelings are oh-so-common, I promise.  It is common to feel extremely conflicted about feeling better and, although it may not seem rational, it is also common to gravitate towards the pain. When it feels like the alternative to feeling pain is losing connection to your loved one, what other choice do you have?

So, what to do? What to do? I suspect that the answer to that question will be personal and specific to you, but here is what I suggest:

Step one (and this is the biggest step):

Remember, your loved one’s memory does not live in the pain of your grief.

Say it with me: My loved one’s memory does not live in the pain of my grief.

Then where does your loved one’s memory live?  As cheesy as it sounds, your loved one’s memory lives in YOU.

It lives in the stories that you tell people about your loved one.  It lives in the memories you share together with friends and family.  It lives in the things you do that your loved one taught you.  It lives in the things you do in their honor and memory.  It lives in every silly little thing you do to stay connected to them – from taking photographs, to listening to music they loved, to baking their favorite cake, to whatever other thing you do to continue bonds.

Now, it is easy to see why this reality might be confusing because in the beginning many of the above things used to bring you a lot of pain.  Things like music and photographs and reminders could easily spur an uncontrollable crying spell and endless hours on the couch eating Ben and Jerry’s.  Reminders once equaled sad – so it isn’t a far leap to think if the pain starts to go away that these things mean less to you –> which means your loved one’s memory is disappearing –> which means your love for them is diminishing.

But this is not what is happening – I promise.

We as humans are capable of some amazing things, like resilience and adaptability.  As time passes your brain learns to manage the emotional pain and, slowly but surely, you get a little more control over the memory.   As you get further from your loss, the pain starts to ease just a bit.  What you must realize, is not that your loved one is disappearing as your pain diminishes; rather, you are learning to live with the memory of your loved one in a different way.

Step Two:

Embrace the idea that as pain diminishes, you may actually find more space to continue bonds and to keep your loved one’s memory alive.

Example: right after my dad died, if a CCR song came on the radio in the car I had to change the station immediately.  It was too much, I was immediately crying hysterically and a safety hazard to myself and other drivers.  Now when as CCR song comes on the radio, chances are I will sing along, do a ridiculous car-dance, and tell whoever is around how much the song reminds me of my dad.

Step Three:

Make a conscious decision to continue bonds.  Your connection to your loved one can be part of your daily life, even as you move forward and find a ‘new normal’ (apologies to the folks I know hate that term!).  So figure out what that looks like for you, and use these 16 ideas to get you started.  You may be surprised to see that, as you find positive ways to continue bonds with the person you have lost, you can let go of more and more of the pain without fear that you are letting go of the person you love.

  • Upvote 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

BY KELLY BUCKLEY / TIPS FOR PERSONAL TRANSFORMATION / DECEMBER 17, 2015

The Empty Place Setting– Dealing with Loss During the Holidays

Kelly Buckley Loss Holidays

To speak gratitude is courteous and pleasant, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live gratitude is to touch Heaven. ~ Johannes A. Gaertner 

The table is set, but something is missing. He is missing; my beautiful son Stephen. Each year, I feel the same sense of melancholy as the holidays approach. It sits gently beneath the surface of my smile and coexists with the smells of the season wafting from the kitchen.

Family gatherings and special occasions shine a bright light on the new reality of the bereaved. They illuminate that empty place setting at our table.

[10 Ways to Comfort a Grieving Heart]

It becomes painfully apparent when someone asks us to all scrunch together for a family picture. Because, no matter how bright my smile, I can’t help but feel this is not right; we are taking this picture without someone very important.

It hurts, and that is the simple stark truth of loss. No matter how many years pass, his absence becomes no less profound. And the holidays magnify the loss. At moments it is overwhelming, and my sadness feels as deep as the ocean.

That doesn’t mean we don’t have a happy life. We do; we have moments of bliss, and belly laughs and complete joy. We are surrounded by beautiful people, and a multitude of blessings. As a family, we’ve worked hard to get here, to be able to live with the quiet grief and make peace with the balance of happy and sad that is our daily walk.

But there it is…the chair where he should be sitting; the empty place at our table of bounty, and it can’t be changed.

[5 Tips to Help Someone With Dementia Enjoy the Holidays]

What is the answer? How do you get through? Here’s how our family decided to cope with the empty place setting:

The Empty Chair: We try to fill the empty chair with someone who needs the measure of love that we have available to give. There is always someone out there who needs some tenderness and care. You need not look very far to find them.

The Empty Plate: On his empty plate, we heap on a hefty portion of acceptance. This acceptance is for each person sitting at our table and for whatever “broken bits” they bring to our gathering. All are welcome. We also send acceptance out to the world, and to the people who desperately need it. This seems to be in short supply as of late.

As side dishes, we add:

Remembrance: We talk about Stephen. We remember the funny stories and his quirky and adorable personality. We laugh about the colossal amounts of food he could consume at his slow and steady pace. We give ourselves the gift of remembrance, to not let the impact of his life stop at the time of his death. He lives on through us, how we choose to live and remember him.

[5 Tips for Managing Your Time This Holiday Season]

Gentle Care: The holidays are not only about the big meals and family. It is also about pressure to have everything just right, managing the once-a-year family obligations and conversations. An important side dish we avail of each year is gentle care. We take care of ourselves. We try, as best as we can, to take measures to ensure that the day is what we want it to be, not what people expect of us. We surround ourselves with good food, music, people and moments of solitude. We take care of our hearts.

Go With the Flow Mentality: Sounds, smells, and tradition can bring up memories and in some cases, pain. Give yourself permission to go with the flow of the day, and move the day in a direction that is easy on your heart. That may mean not cooking the green bean casserole that reminds you so much of him. Or it may mean adding a new tradition to mix things up. Going with the flow means not fighting back the tears if they need to fall from your eyes. We accept that things are not quite the same, and we go wherever that takes us.

[Read Maria Shriver’s latest ‘I’ve Been Thinking’ essay]

And for dessert? Of course, it is Gratitude. And at our house, everyone eats dessert. We take a moment to look around at the people who are sitting at our table and give thanks for their presence in our lives. We close our eyes and give thanks for Stephen and his beautiful life’s ripple, and how it continues to touch others. We give thanks for our broken hearts, and how the trials of life molded us into more open and compassionate human beings. We give thanks for our “broken bits” and the opportunity to walk compassionately with others on their journey.

We recognize that true spirit of the holidays is being able to find the little things that bless us within the mess.

Sending you and yours love and wishes for an abundance of “little things” this holiday season and always…

  • Upvote 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

How I remember that first Christmas without George.  I don't think I could have handled someone else sitting in his chair then, but these are some good thoughts to ponder.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Hi Finch,

I am sorry you had trouble signing up for the FREE eCourse “Coping with Grief During the Holidays”

This might help:

When you go to the site click on add to cart – it’s FREE

On the upper right side it will direct you to go to: check out – click on it

You have to fill out the Billing Details – it is FREE – and you will need to add a password (you can always delete this if you wish to)

Click on: Place your order – again it is FREE

The eCourse will be sent to your email address

I hope this works for you.

Anne

  • Upvote 1
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Hi Anne,

 

I had no trouble signing up and have been partaking in the course :)

 

I was referring to the course forum. I made a couple of short posts and was a little sad noone replied compared to this forum. I got paranoid as I started to think maybe because my relationship with the person I lost was slightly unconventional it might not viewed as valid in the same way by other readers. But I think that is my own insecurities and anxieties driving that. The forum is not very active after all. And the main purpose is the course, not the forum. So I should not expect the kinds of interactions I have had on this site.

It's no biggie and am really grateful for the endeavour, it's a very useful resource at this time of year.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Finch,

I can understand how you might feel, but no one here has responded to you that way and I think we're a sampling of what's out there, so doubt you'd get an adverse response from another forum.  We're all going through the same things with some uniqueness to each person's situation thrown in. :)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

1 hour ago, kayc said:

Finch,

I can understand how you might feel, but no one here has responded to you that way and I think we're a sampling of what's out there, so doubt you'd get an adverse response from another forum.  We're all going through the same things with some uniqueness to each person's situation thrown in. :)

Thank you kay. I couldn't have asked for a more understanding group of people than I found on here.

It's true that we each have our own unique aspects to our losses.

Also I just checked again and I did in fact get a reply that I somehow missed. So I'm being stupid.

  • Upvote 2
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...