I have always loved candles. Something in the flickering light speaks to my heart.
It’s one of my favorite parts of early evenings-watching the candles I light on every flat surface cast a soft glow and chase the darkness.
Even a small light offers hope.
Read the rest here: Remembering the Missing: Four Candles
It’s tempting to line up our friends and acquaintances in columns under headings of “perfect family”, “good christian”, “struggling addict” or “hopeless case”.
When I label someone I justify my response-good or bad-and let myself off the hook for sharing the extravagant, unrestrained love God has shown to me.
The longer I live, the more people I meet, the more certain I am that the neat little categories we like to use are not very helpful.
If I decide they are “doing well” then they don’t need my help.
And if I decide they are “beyond hope” then why waste my time or effort?
Either way, I’m wrong.
Christmas is the story of God come down-Emmanuel-of Love reaching down into a dark and lonely world. It was hardly tidy, it was a Messy Christmas
I’ll never forget one Christmas when I and some other moms organized a craft day for our preschool kids at a local church.
In our youthful enthusiasm, we thought doing homemade cards accented by glitter was a good idea. Boy, were we wrong!
Those bits of metallic bliss went everywhere-in hair, on clothes, in the carpet…we spent twice as much time trying to clean up as we spent making memories with the children. Never again!
So this quote about grief and glitter really struck home in my heart.
❤ Melanie
Every now and then I run across a quote or a meme that is perfect.
This is one of them.
Read the rest here: Grief Glitter, Tucked In Every Corner
If your heart cannot bear the thought of one more holly, jolly song, one more hap-hap-happy get together, one more frenzied rush to the store for a forgotten present or pantry item-just choose to sit this one out.
It is possible to go through the month of December without caving in to consumerism or being guilted into celebrating when your heart’s not in it.
Close the blinds. Let the telephone go to voicemail. Fast from social media and turn off the TV.
Read the rest here: “Get Out of Christmas Free” Card
Getting Christmas cards out on time was always a challenge in my busy household.
So for the last years of kids at home, we transitioned to sending New Year’s greetings. It was easier to get a family photo with everyone home for Christmas, there was no artificial deadline to send them and we could include a “thank you” or respond to news in their Christmas letters.
I hadn’t sent anything for three years.
What could I say?
And a family photo was out of the question.
Read the rest here: Christmas Cards-Yes? No? Maybe?
My heart beats with Mary’s. She knew and understood part of what was going on but had no way to anticipate or comprehend precisely what it meant to be the mother of Messiah.
She pondered the shepherds’ visit and their story.
I’ve pondered too.
Read the rest here: Advent: Ponder and Praise
I first shared this a few years ago when I really thought I should have reached a place in my grief journey where holidays weren’t as difficult as they were at first.
But what I realized then and what has been confirmed since is that every year has new and unique situations that make Christmas a fresh challenge each time.
As the twelfth Christmas without Dominic rapidly approaches, I am pondering the question: “Why, oh why, is Christmas so hard?”
I think I’ve figured out at least a few reasons why.
For me, probably THE biggest reason Christmas is hard is because it throws off the routine I depend on to shepherd my heart through a day. It’s easiest for me to manage when I have at least a couple of hours of quiet time each morning. I need those silent moments to let my heart feel what it needs to feel, to cry if I must and to orient my thoughts after, once again, “remembering” that Dominic isn’t here.
Changing schedules and extra commitments mean that some nights I stay up later than usual and can’t manage to get out of bed in time to have those hours. Extra people in the house mean that they may get up and join me in the living room. While I love the company, I have to be honest and say I would love it more a little later in the day.
Another reason I struggle at Christmas is because all (almost all!) the family is together in one place. This may sound odd to anyone who hasn’t buried a child, but when every single person I care most deeply for is together, it highlights the space where Dominic SHOULD be but ISN’T.
Other times of the year we are more or less a full circle-as long as one or two others are missing, it kind of feels like maybe, just maybe, Dominic is away for awhile instead of away for the rest of my life. But when we are all gathered round the table or the tree or the fireplace, it is oh, so obvious that he isn’t here.
Buying presents and filling stockings I go down the list. I have to skip Dom because he won’t be here to open gifts or pull out his favorite candy from a Christmas sock. I can’t even mail him a package where he is. So I try to focus on the fact that his Christmas is the best one, because he is with the One Who IS Christmas.
But my heart still hurts, still yearns for one more hilarious morning when the camcorder won’t work or one of our sleepy young adults refuses to roll out of bed while the rest of us are waiting.
We are waiting now for a different kind of morning-one where the light dawns and never dims.
While I am in no way ashamed of the grief I carry-great love means great grief- I do try not to burden others with my tears at events or in places where smiles should rule. The Christmas season multiplies those occasions and calls for so. much. energy. just to maintain my “happy face” for the masses. It’s exhausting in a way only other grievers can truly understand.
And, of course, we celebrate Christmas in the US during what my grandmother used to call “the dark of the year”. Shorter days, longer nights means less time outside, less sunshine to generate the feel-good hormones I depend on to get me through each moment. When the nights come early and linger long, my mind has more time to ruminate on what was and what will never be again.
Finally, because Christmas is stressful for everyone for different reasons, people can just be a little harder to deal with-less flexible, more impatient, quicker to take offense or give it. All that emotional drama can overwhelm my heart in a flash-leaving me speechless, crying and anxious. It’s no one’s fault. It just is what it is.
For all these reasons-and dozens more-Christmas is an especially difficult time of year for this hurting heart.
So I try to be gentle to myself and to extend the same grace to ME that I extend to others.
I remind my heart that it is perfectly OK to turn down invitations when I just. can’t. go.
I lean into the Promise born in the manger-Emmanuel, God with us-and hold on with both hands.
Several times this week I’ve had messages or seen posts from bereaved parents feeling like failures because Christmas is STILL hard, even many years after their child went to Heaven.
Some of them heaped the guilt on themselves but many were responding to a family member or friend who felt compelled to tell them they should “be better by now” or “remember their other children” or “not ruin the holiday for everyone else”.
Other broken hearted parents have shared that they actually felt stronger and better able to face Christmas in years past but this year is hitting differently.
For them, it might be because Christmas is never JUST Christmas.
We come to this season with memories and emotional baggage of a lifetime. And for bereaved parents, the heaviest load we carry is our child(ren)’s absence. We also bear the additional burden of this particular year’s challenges, losses, physical and emotional stress and whatever lesser, but also energy intensive, cares and responsibilities we may have.
So I’d like to encourage my fellow road weary travelers.
Be gentle with yourself.
Take care of yourself first (when possible-I know littles make that much harder). You cannot pour from an empty cup.
Have honest conversations with those that matter most to you and limit conversation with those that only make you sadder and more stressed.
If you are concerned about your earthbound children, now is a perfect time to take them aside-one on one- and let them know that if it had been THEM, they would be equally grieved and missed.
Remember that saying “no” is a complete sentence. You don’t have to make excuses or satisfy someone else’s curiosity.
If you are at your limit for making merry, don’t.
There is no moral imperative that Christ’s birth be celebrated at all (although I think it’s a beautiful tradition). You have not failed Him or anyone else if you can’t participate in all the church activities this time of year.
This is the twelfth Christmas for us after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven and it’s a tough one.
For the first time since the first one, I’ve been unable to do even one thing to get ready or incline my heart toward anything like a “regular” Christmas.
My father suffered a major stroke in September and I have been at his home with him since then. My oldest son is expecting his third child and his wife is having complications that guarantee this little one will make an early appearance. Every member of my family is in different places and we are reduced to short phone calls and text messages for connection.
I would usually at least have a lovely pine scented candle to light each dark morning and evening but my father can’t tolerate the smell. So even this one ritual has been denied.
I’m trying desperately to get care lined up for my dad while worrying about the ever changing status of my DIL and granddaughter. The internet is slow, cell service is worse and I spend way too much time just attempting to contact people.
My father refuses to go anywhere for Christmas and I will, undoubtedly, be with my son’s family by then if the baby comes.
I’m sharing all that to say this: Every other challenge and burden is heaped on top of the already unbearable weight of missing Dominic. I’ve been barely dragging myself through each day.
So I’m taking my own advice.
I talked to my family and together we’ve agreed that we are streamlining and eliminating everything except what’s necessary for the grandchildren to have Christmas. The adults are fine.
I love my father but he is in his right mind (despite the stroke) and if he wants to be alone at Christmas, that’s his choice.
I’m putting on my stretchy pants and enjoying whatever holiday cheer my husband, my children and I can muster as we (hopefully) bask in the glow of a tiny new life.
So if you are struggling, dear heart, find the way forward that lifts as many burdens as you can.
Refuse to take on another person’s baggage.
Jesus came so that we don’t have to carry this alone.
He is here-Immanuel-God With Us.
Sometimes it’s hard to gauge effectively and objectively how I’m really doing.
Living inside my own head often obscures tell-tale signs that maybe I’m not coping as well as I think I am.
So I depend on feedback from friends and family as an early warning safety system.
But many of us are physically isolated from others who might otherwise help us discern when we need help. A heart can fall fast into a deep pit of despair without realizing it.
A friend recently shared this infographic and I love it!
It’s an objective (though not exhaustive!) checklist anyone can use to determine if they are slipping into unhealthy or potentially harmful behaviors, attitudes and thought patterns.
I wanted to share it with my fellow broken-hearted sojourners as a tool.
Please be honest with yourself even if you can’t be honest with others.
And if you find that you are closer to the red than the green, let me (or SOMEONE) know!
You may be isolated but you are NOT alone!
Reach out.
You are irreplaceable
I recorded this conversation with Greg Buffkin from the Empty Chair Endeavor before my life was turned upside down by my dad’s stroke in September.
I had honestly forgotten exactly what we talked about so I was pleasantly surprised when I listened to it last week after it was published.
We covered a lot of ground-what helps, what hurts and what and Who has sustained us both on this journey no parent chooses. We talked about sibling loss and about parenting a child who has lost a sibling. We shared how trauma reshapes our emotions and our bodies.
If you’re looking for a word of encouragement as we plunge into the hectic holiday season, take a few minutes to listen.
I want to edit one thing I shared in the podcast: I’m not sure just when I’ll be able to schedule the 2026 retreats but I pray it is soon!
Melanie
You can find it here: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/navigating-grief-insights-from-melanie-desimone-dominics/id1654053256?i=1000738301553
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