It’s the holiday season, the most wonderful time of the year.  Though you probably don’t feel holly jolly if you’re grieving.  Every song, every snowflake, every call to be of good cheer can remind you of your loss, the ones who aren’t here anymore.

And while holidays may work on a specific schedule, grief does not.  Its timeline isn’t linear, like getting from Point A to Point B.  It’s more like waves, a rollercoaster, or a long and winding road, especially at the holidays.

I know what that’s like.  After many physical, mental, and emotional struggles, my father died on December 18th.  All my holiday plans evaporated.  Everything felt surreal, like walking through molasses and trying to think with a Swiss-cheese brain; I could grasp some things, but not others.  When people came to visit, I didn’t feel like talking.  I wanted to be alone to watch Christmas movies.  My mother, on the other hand, seemed to talk non-stop.

After the holiday break, I returned to work and the slow healing process began.  During this time, with the help of a trusted counselor, I gained clarity about myself as a daughter and caregiver.  I began to recognize unhealthy behaviors and stopped making excuses for them.  I re-evaluated certain choices, considered my likes and dislikes, and who I was as my authentic self.

Eventually, I found my own ways of reminiscing without a lot of tears or anguish.   I began giving away my father’s possessions.   I no longer needed to read his letters or sit pouring over old photographs.  I felt renewed energy as I recognized a life distinct from him and who I’d once been.

One day, at a restaurant, I saw chopped steak on the menu.  My father often ate that, and because he liked it, I did, too.  But I had no taste for it anymore and ordered a ribeye instead.

My grieving and my healing were a process.  And so, Dear Reader, are yours.

Set Your Own Pace

Despite what others may tell you, you don’t need to rush and “get over it.”  But you can find peace in accepting that you’re on a journey of re-discovery.  And, as cliché as it sounds, the journey—one you determine for yourself—includes both tears and laughter.  So, especially during the holidays, choose what feels most comforting for you.  If you enjoy the traditions, continue them.

One family I know planned their customary Christmas and set a place for grandma with her favorite shawl around her usual chair.

“If her spirit comes,” her granddaughter said, “at least she’ll be warm.”

“Right,” her son laughed, “because she needed that shawl, even when the house was 80^o.”

In comparison, a widow chose to go to the beach with a friend.

“I couldn’t face all the cooking and cleaning, and an empty house when everyone went home.  My kids were confused at first, but eventually, they understood.”

Now her family goes to the beach every Christmas.

“It’s a new tradition,” she explained.  “Another way for us to connect and celebrate.”

Feel the Absence

When you’re missing a loved one, honor your feelings and sensitivities.  Do what comforts you.  Hang their ornaments on the tree.  Light candles in their menorah. Enjoy their favorites: the food, songs, and movies, for instance.  Also, consider comforting someone else who’s grieving.  Many people affirm that when they exchange stories, they feel less lonely because they’ve shared similar experiences.

As one mother told me, “It doesn’t mean my daughter’s ever coming back.  But I know I’m still alive, able to keep being a friend and mentor.  And I know she’d tell me to get out there.  Not sit around the house alone all day.”

This woman also explained that she found her own path through grief.

“It wasn’t always pretty,” she said, “but one day I woke up and I had so much to do.  I didn’t think of her until sometime later in the day when I passed the park where we used to play.  I felt sad, but I knew I was moving on, and it was good.”

Travel Another Road

That moving on is part of the journey, too.  So, have faith in your process as you discern what feels most comforting for you.  Know that you’re worthy and deserving of new joys and adventures.  Let yourself be in the flow of life as you honor your loved ones, honor yourself, and honor who you are yet to be.

Remember, too: You don’t have to pretend you’re still mourning when you feel healed.  It isn’t a sign of love.  Even when the grief subsides, the love remains.  It was there in the beginning, and that love continues as you open yourself to embrace your own new journey.

© 2023 – Rev. Jennifer L. Sacks – All rights reserved.

Photo from Shutterstock by BearFotos.