Thanksgiving is only a little over a week away and I know many are making final plans and preparations to gather family and friends around the table.
In the rush toward celebration, please don’t forget those in your circle who have suffered loss.
The past months have prevented or limited many of the ways we publicly gather and mourn so it’s easy to overlook that some families are facing their first set of holidays without a loved one.
Even the second or third Thanksgiving with an empty chair is unbelievably hard.
Here are some helpful ideas to get you started.
❤ Melanie
We are all on a journey through life and each carry some sort of load. Mine is child loss. Yours may be something else.
We can help one another if we try.
Love and grace grease the wheels and make the load lighter.
Here are ten ways to love a mourning heart at Thanksgiving:
I admire those families that have holiday plans pinned down for next year by the time they box up this year’s Christmas decorations.
Somehow we’ve never perfected the art of predictable patterns and unchanging life circumstances that make such a thing even possible.
So while we try to observe some of the same traditions from year to year, they tend to be expressed a little differently each time.
Of course, the year Dominic left us EVERYTHING changed.
“Changed” isn’t even really the right word. It was more like everything just stopped. Holidays were out of place in a world where all the color had faded to gray. What heart can make merry when all it feels is sorrow and despair?
Even still, the calendar beckoned and we muddled through the first Thanksgiving and Christmas as best we could.
This will be the eighth (!) holiday season since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
My children are all adults with established careers living away from home. We’ve added to the family circle through marriage and childbirth and we’ve had to say “see you later” to my mama who joined Dom with Jesus in 2019. Of course, like so many others, Covid interrupted last year’s celebration.
The past two years have been filled with travel(some planned, some unexpected) including a trip this week out to Texas to spend time with my son’s family.
So I find myself only days away from Thanksgiving without a concrete plan for when we will actually get together around the table and what, exactly, might be on it when we do.
(Please don’t ask me about Christmas yet!)
It’s more than a little uncomfortable for this gal who loves lists and planning and decorating to choose flexibility and flying by the seat of my pants. And it’s very uncomfortable to be the point of contact for various family members who are used to me having answers instead of more questions when they call to find out when they should show up and what they should bring.
But if there’s one thing I’m learning in this life after loss it’s this: Control is an illusion. All the planning in the world can’t account for random and unexpected.
I’m going to make some phone calls today to try to figureit out.
I’m pretty sure we will have plenty to eat, plenty to say and plenty of room for whoever shows up.
I wrote this six years ago but most of it could have been written yesterday.
I was adding up all the things that have happened since Dominic ran ahead to Heaven and each autumn there has been some new and difficult circumstance to mar the beauty of falling leaves.
There have been lovely things too, though-precious moments of quiet rejoicing and memory making. I treasure them in my heart because loss has taught me their value.
Thanksgiving is still my favorite holiday because I am still so very, very thankful.
❤
Thanksgiving has always been my favorite holiday.
My birthday sometimes falls on the day itself, and I have often been able to celebrate with extended family and friends-a full table of food and a full house of fellowship.
I love the colors of fall, the scents of cinnamon and pumpkin, the freedom from gift-giving pressures that lets me focus on the people in my life.
I think the most helpful post I’ve ever shared is this one.
So as a follow-up to yesterday’s thoughts about the holidays I’m sharing it again.
I hope that you feel confident sharing it with your family and friends as an invitation to conversation and as a bulwark against unrealistic expectations.
Holidays are hard no matter how long it’s been.
❤ Melanie
I know it is hard. I know you don’t truly understand how I feel. You can’t. It wasn’t your child.
I know I may look and act like I’m “better”. I know that you would love for things to be like they were: BEFORE.But they aren’t.
I know my grief interferes with your plans. I know it is uncomfortable to make changes in traditions we have observed for years. But I can’t help it. I didn’t ask for this to be my life.
I will confess: I’m no better at this than the first set of holidays after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
Every. Single. Year. has brought changes and challenges on top of the empty chair round the family table.
Since Dominic left us we’ve had additions (two grandchildren and various significant others) and sadly, more subtractions (my mother joined Dom in 2019). We’ve dealt with distance, deployment, healthcare and retail work schedules, a pandemic and lots of other, less easily defined tensions and difficulties.
When I ran across this quote awhile back my heart screamed, “YES!!!”
Gathering an entire family (which may include teens and young adults) for any extended length of time is a feat of scheduling, negotiation, and preference management. International treaties have been worked out in fewer steps. The sheer number of details that have to line up is mind-boggling.
Elizabeth Spencer
There are the absolute parameters forced upon any family by distance and availability. NegotiatingTHOSEis truly a feat.
But when your family story includes profound loss, a mama often has additional hoops to jump through. Surviving siblings bring their own grief to the table and what that looks like can change over time. So something that worked one year might be rejected this season.
I wish I had some magical insight that could guide every wounded heart through these next, treacherous months.
I don’t.
What I can tell you is that it’s better to start earlier rather than later. Nothing falls into place without some planning. Old habits are hard to break and traditions are well-worn habits so don’t expect anyone to give them up easily.
No one can read your mind (are YOU telepathic?). Tell your friends and family what you need (even if it is that you have NOidea what you need!).
And then make space in your celebrations for times when you can grieve the absence of your child. It may be a shared moment or it may be you remember in solitude.
If you have surviving children, remember they are grieving too. They have lost a sibling, their innocence regarding death’s ability to steal even the young and the family they once knew.
Extend grace to others when you can.
Extend grace to yourself when you must.
Be honest and do the best you can.
Then remember that even these days are only twenty-four hours long. They will pass.
The sun will rise and you will, undoubtedly find out you survived. ❤
We were pretty sure Thanksgiving was nailed down this year.
Several of us have spent months doing work down at Papa’s place creating the perfect space for the whole family to gather. Food was ordered, menu planned and travel coordinated.
But no one can plan for the unpredictable.
So when Covid cases skyrocketed and we did the math, it became too risky for four separate households to spend five days eating, sleeping and playing together under one roof.
We called it off.
It was and is heartbreaking.
But not as heartbreaking as adding another empty chair around the table or missing another face in our family circle.
Perhaps you’re faced with some equally hard choices this year, this season.
I’m so sorry.
It seems especially unfair to those whose hearts are already lonely from loss to be forced to give up the chance for fellowship and encouragement in company of family and friends!
I wish there were some magic to make it all better.
There isn’t.
And one thing I’ve learned in this life I didn’t choose is this: you have to make the best of what you have left.
Thanksgiving with the family before loss. ❤
So I pray no matter how small, how unusual, how disappointing your own Thanksgiving may feel this year that you find space in your heart for hope.
We are not doing what we planned, but we are doing something.
It won’t be what we wished for, but we will still have a day.
The world can make a heart panic, scrambling to pile up extra lest “the worst” befalls us and suddenly there’s not enough.
That’s what happened during the pandemic when, for some unknown reason, toilet paper became the currency of security.
But no matter how deep or full the pantry, stuff can’t keep us truly safe.
Ask me how I know.
Dominic ran ahead to Heaven April 12, 2014.
Only faith and trust in the ever-faithful, never-lying Almighty God guides our hearts Home.
So in this season of thanksgiving, when gratitude is in style, I want to choose a bold strategy to challenge the world’s wrong direction and misapplied “wisdom”.
It’s not enough to pray thanksgiving over my family, my home, my safety net stockpile.
I want my life to be full of thanks AND of giving.
Because when I give I’m boldly declaring that I trust the Lord to give more. I’m leaning into the True Source of provision and leading other hearts to do the same.
A heart of gratitude is beautiful.
It’s what God wants from His children. But that’s only the half of it. A grateful heart that freely gives to others what has been freely given to it is even more beautiful.
God’s economy is one of bounty. I am unconcerned that my Heavenly Father may run out of blessing.
Everything I have, He has placed in my hands.
I am most like Jesus when I open my fists and share the gifts God entrusts to me with others.
My true treasure can’t be counted in dollars and cents.
My real reserve is love poured out and love returned.
I first shared this post three years ago when our family was in the midst of hard circumstances and we all had frayed nerves.
This year is a different kind of hard because some of the plans we thought were coming together are falling apart. I imagine many folks probably feel the same way with the pandemic forcing changes to longstanding traditions. So I’m sharing again.
You’d think that writing something down would ink it in my brain but I forget too. I need this reminder to take a breath, take a sip of my favorite flavored whatever and savor the beauty of this season.
❤ Melanie
Here they come round the bend like a pack of dogs chasing that rabbit on a racetrack.
No way to slow them down, no way to step to the side and ward off the relentless message that Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming soon-so, so soon.
Internet ads scream, “You’ve got to buy it NOW! You’re running out of time!”
Our family has yet to settle into a routine for the holidays even six years after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven. I’m always looking for new ideas that might be suitable.
Pinterest just doesn’t cater to those trying to craft celebrations that make space for grief and empty chairs.
So here are a few ideas I’ve compiled from other bereaved parents. I hope those who read this post will add their own.
Maybe one or more will help your family make a plan.
❤ Melanie
It cannot be overstated:holidays are extremely hard after loss. Every family gathering highlights the hole where my son SHOULD be, but ISN’T.
There is no “right way” or “wrong way” to handle the holidays after losing a child.
For many, there is only survival-especially the very first year.