bereaved parent – Page 202 – thelifeididntchoose

Practical Ideas for Dealing with the Holidays after Child Loss

This is the fourth in a series on making plans for the holidays after loss.

Yes, it’s early and no, you might not want to think about them-it’s really hard to imagine Thanksgiving and Christmas without the child you love. BUT, the days will come whether we want them to or not. Here’s some help to navigate them.

If you missed the first three posts you can find them here:

Grief and Holiday Plans: Working Out the Details

Grief, Holidays and Hard Conversations

Grief and Holidays:What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family.

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.

These days also stir great internal conflict: I want to enjoy and celebrate my living children and my family still here while missing my son that isn’t. Emotions run high and are, oh so difficult to manage.

So I’m including some ideas from other bereaved parents on how they’ve handled the holidays. Many of these suggestions could be adapted for any “special” day of the year.

Not all will appeal to everyone nor will they be appropriate for every family. But they are a place to start.

If you have decided to make a Holiday Journal, consider printing these ideas to put inside or copying out the ones that might be helpful for you.

Skip it.

Sounds drastic and it is. But for some families (especially if there are no small children involved) it is absolutely possible (and sometimes healing) to ignore all traditions and trappings associated with Thanksgiving and Christmas.
You might choose to serve others on these days by volunteering with a local organization offering meals to the homeless or disadvantaged in your community.
Take a holiday meal to hospital workers, police officers or firemen in your area. You can do it anonymously or in the name of your child.

Consider traveling for the holidays.

On the first Thanksgiving after my son left us, we shared the weekend with our newly married son and his wife in another state. It was the first time in my life I hadn’t spent the holiday with my parents. It was still very hard, but helpful in a way.
Other families have chosen to rent a cabin or condo and have the same people involved but experience the season in another location. Most try to choose a place with a natural focus for activity that isn’t all about the holiday-like skiing in the mountains or near a lake or beach.

Change how you do meals.

If your family traditions always include the same foods in the same house, you might want to eat the holiday meal in a restaurant instead.
You could swap up the timing of a meal-evening instead of noon or vice-versa.
Change up the guest list-include a few close friends along with family members (friends that understand your grief). Sometimes it helps to have others not so affected by the loss in the mix.
If you have been the host but don’t feel like you can do it this year-definitely consider passing that to someone else. And don’t feel guilty about it.
Include the missing family members at the table in some way. One bereaved mom wrote: “My niece includes my son and mom at events hosted in her home. She sets a chair aside and places a photo in the seat and a commemorative bow on the chair back.”
Don’t make certain foods. I make giant plates of cookies but have not made shortbread cookies since my son left us. It was his favorite and one of the few things that tempted him from his strict weight-lifting diet
Make your child’s favorites and enjoy eating them and sharing memories around the table.

Let others do the planning/cooking/communicating.

Explain to your family that you aren’t up to being the one to plan this year’s holidays. Let someone else do it. Participate if and when you can.
Be kind, but stand your ground.

Make new traditions.

If you go around the table at Thanksgiving saying, “I’m thankful for…“-it might not be something you can do this year. That’s OK.
Light a candle for the missing child. You might want to have those present share a favorite memory or you might simply want to have the candle create a silent presence.
Some families can’t bring themselves to use the same Christmas tree they used before loss so they get a new and/or different one. Some don’t want a tree at all.
Some families have a separate tree full of ornaments or memorabilia for their missing child and use the main tree as usual for the rest of the family.
“I have a separate tree for Z. . It’s filled with ornaments that remind us of him. They range from glass ornaments with his favorite candy inside to a Thomas the tank engine ornament. Collecting more ornaments for him as I’m out shopping for others helps me during this very painful time.”
Some families don’t hang any stockings while others hang them all, including the missing child’s.
Another family asks family members and friends to write a note to their son or share a favorite memory of him. They place them in his stocking to be opened and read on Christmas Day.
“We asked everyone to do a random act of kindness in memory of our daughter and our friends’ son and to email it to us. We printed out all of the emails, put them in her stocking and read them as a family on Christmas morning. It was amazing to hear all of the lives touched as a result, and it took our focus off of our loss.”
My husband, children (all adults) and myself didn’t want to receive gifts from extended family the first year. We still gave them, but asked that others refrain or give a donation in our son’s name.
Some families buy gifts that would be appropriate for another child the same age as their missing child (or the age they would be) and give them to another child for Christmas.

Commemorate your child:

Some bereaved parents put a Christmas tree with solar powered or battery powered lights on their child’s resting place.
Some parents take family photos and include a large photo of their missing child or a special family memento (like a stuffed animal or symbol on a shirt) to represent that child in the pictures.
Some families give donations in their child’s name to organizations that purchase Christmas gifts for needy families or food for families at Thanksgiving.
In some communities there is a “Blue Christmas” ceremony on December 21st each year in which families gather to remember lost loved ones with music, candles and sometimes a devotional message. Some are sponsored by local chapters of The Compassionate Friends. If there is not one in your area, your church may be willing to host one.

Keep the same traditions:

For some families, keeping everything the same is the most comforting choice. Especially if there are young children involved, it may be the easiest way to go.
But feel free to ask for help. If you are not up to shopping for children in the family, make a list, let someone else do it and wrap the presents for you. Or use an online shopping service (many offer gift wrap).
Same goes for holiday outings-maybe a good family friend or an extended family member could take the children this year and document it with photos.

Whatever you choose to do or not do, know that there’s no wrong way or right way.

Be gentle with yourself-this is a hard road. And a long one.

Photo credit: State Farm via Visual hunt

Grief and Holidays:What the Bereaved Need From Friends and Family

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 know that every year I seem to need something different. I know that’s confusing and may be frustrating. But I’m working this out as I go. I didn’t get a “how to” manual when I buried my son. It’s new for me every year too.

So I’m trying to make it easier on all of us.

I’m trying to be brave and think ahead and offer up what I can to help you understand.

I’m not asking you to stuff your feelings. But I am asking you to weigh your disappointment in things being different against my unfathomable sorrow in burying my child.

And this is what I need from YOU:

Acknowledge my loss. It doesn’t matter if it has been a few months, a few years or even decades-every single time the whole family gets together, the hole where my child SHOULD be is highlighted. Other people may have moved on, and I am stronger now than I was, but the missing is as hard today as it was the day he left. I need you to acknowledge that even if you don’t understand it.

Be flexible. Every day is different for me. And even if we did a certain thing last year, it may not be something I want to repeat. Life circumstances continue to evolve-living children grow and marry, grandchildren make their appearance, health issues may emerge and change physical capabilities-life keeps on regardless of loss. So this year is DIFFERENT than last year. For everyone. If we all embrace flexibility, there’s less opportunity for breakage. Rubber bounces. Glass shatters. I don’t want my loss to be the central focus, but it’s a huge part of my experience and I can’t ignore it. Help me, please.

Give me space. Grant space in the larger picture-don’t make showing up to every family event a “mandatory option”. Understand that even with planning and the best intentions, I may wake up and realize that I. just. can’t. do. it. Or I may come, but leave early. And grant space in the details-if I walk out of a room, let me go. It may be helpful for one person to check on me after a few minutes but don’t send the calvary to drag me back. I don’t always want to detract from a gathering and I may need to cry, or gather myself, or just sit silently remembering my son.

Give me time. Time by itself does not heal anything. But time is a critical component of healing. If this is the first holiday season after loss, don’t pressure me with artificial deadlines about what I want to do or whether or not I’m going to participate in this or that. And even if it’s not the first season, I still need time. It will be the third set of holidays after my son’s departure and I’m still feeling my way in the dark. Don’t force me to decide if I can’t. Just go on with your plans. If I can join in, I will. If I can’t, then I won’t. That’s the best I can do. It’s how I have to live every single day right now.

Grant mercy. I will mess up. I will say things in the passion of loss that I regret. Overlook it. Don’t lash out or hit back. My emotional tank is so empty sometimes that it’s a wonder I can still feel anything. I am truly trying. Grant mercy.

Extend grace. Grace is lavishing love on the unlovely. Forgiving when someone doesn’t ask for it. Doing something for someone and not expecting anything in return. Step up and step out in faith that loving me will help me heal. Even when you can’t see that it makes a difference. Don’t stop. Don’t withdraw.

Know that this is not what I would have chosen.

Child loss happened TO me.

It is out of my control.

And the calendar pages keep turning. Every holiday season means another year gone without the companionship of the child I miss.

I want to continue to embrace life, to enjoy my loved ones, to make new memories. But I need your help to make it happen.

Don’t abandon me now.

Grief and Holiday Plans: Working Out the Details

I live in Alabama where we are still sweating buckets under the late summer sun, so I understand if thinking about the holidays is the furthest thing from your mind.

School just starting, new routines in place-am I crazy?

Well, yes (you can find plenty of folks to back you up on that) and no-the days keep coming, one after the other, and these big days will be here sooner than we think.

And for grieving parents, it takes some thinking, some planning and some preparation to meet both extended family’s expectations and extra responsibilities at Thanksgiving and Christmas while carrying a load of sorrow and pain.

One thing I am learning in this journey is that even though I wish someone else would blaze the trail for me, I’m going to have to do it myself. And because every major milestone is overflowing with emotional booby-traps, I have to plan ahead.

I wrote this post Practical Ways to Love Grieving Parents at Christmas last year and it has some thoughts that many found helpful.

But I didn’t have it out there until right around Thanksgiving which might be too late for some folks to make adjustments in plans already made by others.

So even though it’s early, and even though I am and have always been one of those people that resents the “holiday creep” that blends everything after the Fourth of July into a hodge-podge of orange, brown, green and red (UGH!)-I’m going to spend the next couple posts on practical ways to plan ahead and relieve some of the stress of this time of year on bereaved parents.

Here’s a few things to get you started:

Find a notebook or journal (I use a 70 page spiral bound notebook) and write in large print “Holiday Journal” on the front cover.
Find or print copies of calendars from October through December and staple, tape or glue them on the very last pages or the back cover of your journal.
On the first page, note any dates (in order) of birthdays, regular family gatherings and trips, etc. that are already committed for those three months.
On the second and third pages make a heading: BRAINSTORMING. Then list what you like/dislike/hope for/dread about the upcoming holiday season. (an example: I dread having the family together in one place because it makes my son’s absence that much more apparent) Don’t edit yourself-write it all down-we will refer to this later.
On the fourth and fifth pages make a heading: FAMILY TRADITIONS. Then list all the things your family usually does for the holidays (if this is your first season after loss they will all be pre-loss traditions, if not, they may include both pre-loss and post-loss traditions)
Place your journal where you can get to it easily but out of reach of small hands and family pets.

Then take a breath-you. are. not. alone.

We’ll work together to establish a survival plan for the holidays.

Tomorrow: Dealing with extended family and how to have those hard conversations.

Overgrown

In my neck of the woods, if you look close you can see tell-tale signs of old home places as you ride down country roads.

A few daffodils in rows emerge each spring to show where some housewife marked her path from front porch to mailbox. A crepe myrtle looks out of place in the woods but often has a twin if you know where to direct your gaze.

People always leave a trace…

Overgrown

The ground disturbed deep down

Grains of sand and clumps of clay long buried brought to the surface.

Topsy-turvy.

Bottom-side-up.

Days,

months,

years go by-

Rain and wind and sun and patient Nature smooth it out

Until only the most observant see the damage done.

Barely noticeable-the penetrating wound.

A mother’s heart.

Time does not erase the place.

How can it when it hides her child?

Beauty for Ashes

It crosses my mind sometimes.

And it’s a topic of conversation among bereaved mamas:

Why fight?
Why struggle on in this hard life without my beloved child?
Why keep on keeping on when I am so very tired?

There are lots of answers.

Some of us remain in the fight because we still have people depending on us-other children, aging parents, a spouse who is also grieving.

Others persevere because they want to honor their missing child’s memory and life and they do some big thing to commemorate him or her-fight for a cause, promote awareness, create a foundation.

Me-I hold onto the promise that in all this pain, all this sorrow, all this struggle-God is doing a work in me and through me for His glory.

Before Dominic left us I knew only a handful of bereaved mothers.

But each of these women had a sweet, gracious, patient, kindness that flowed out of them like water from a spring.

I saw one of them yesterday.

We hugged and exchanged knowing looks filled with deep love born from deep sorrow. She didn’t ask me about trivial things-because she knows there is really only one question that matters:

Am I continuing to lean on Jesus?

Is He enough?

Do I trust that God will redeem and restore?

Because in the end, the only thing that makes this struggle meaningful is the promise that one day, a never-ending, eternal day, God will bring beauty from the ashes of burying my child.

He will fulfill the promise of the everlasting Jubilee:

He wants me to help those in Zion who are filled with sorrow. I will put beautiful crowns on their heads in place of ashes. I will anoint them with olive oil to give them joy instead of sorrow. I will give them a spirit of praise in place of a spirit of sadness. They will be like oak trees that are strong and straight. The Lord himself will plant them in the land. That will show how glorious he is.

Isaiah 61:3 NIRV

And I believe that God’s going to have show and tell. He’s going to parade His persevering children to a wondering world at the end of the age.

Maybe He’ll say something like, “See! There’s My masterpiece! There’s My love on display! The devil thought he had won, but he is wrong. Eternally and undeniably wrong!”

For we are His workmanship [His own master work, a work of art], created in Christ Jesus [reborn from above—spiritually transformed, renewed, ready to be used] for good works, which God prepared [for us] beforehand [taking paths which He set], so that we would walk in them [living the good life which He prearranged and made ready for us].

Ephesians 2:10 AMP

I want to be pliable under the hand of the Potter-even though it hurts.

I’ll stay in the fire-even though it’s hot.

I’ll trust the One Who made and is making me.

Because the story God is writing for me and my family doesn’t end with ashes.

The Forgotten Ones: Grieving Siblings

I am always afraid that Dominic will be forgotten.

I’m afraid that as time passes, things change and lives move forward, his place in hearts will be squeezed smaller and smaller until only a speck remains.

Not in my heart, of course.

Or in the hearts of those closest to him, but in general-he will become less relevant.

But he is not the only one who can be forgotten. I am just as fearful that my living children will be forgotten.

Not in the same way-they are HERE.

They are participating in life and making new memories, new connections and strengthening old ones.

I’m afraid their grief will be overlooked, unacknowledged-swept under the giant rug of life and busyness that seems to cover everything unpleasant or undervalued.

If the course of a bereaved parent’s grief is marked by initial outpouring of concern, comfort and care followed by the falling away of friends, family and faithful companionship then that of a bereaved sibling is doubly so.

Surviving children often try to lessen a grieving parent’s burden by acting as if “everything is OK”.

But it’s not-it is definitely NOT.

Their world has been irrevocably altered. They have come face-to-face with mortality, with deep pain, with an understanding that bad things happen-happen to people they love-without warning and without remedy.

They are forced to rethink their family, their faith and their future without a life-long friend and companion.

Part of their history is gone.

If surviving children are young, it can be so, so easy to mistake the natural enthusiasm and excitement of youth for complete healing. They are often busy with events, education, work and life and the grief they still feel may go unnoticed-even by themselves.

But they need safe, consistent and compassionate care while they navigate grief and the enduring impacts of sibling loss. School counselors, grief counselors or mature and emotionally stable adult friends can be very helpful during this process.

It’s important to be alert to danger signals. Behavioral impacts may present in many ways:

Anxiety (situational, tests, generalized)
Risk taking
Isolation
Inability to enjoy previously enjoyable activities
Withdrawal from family or friends
Depression
Self-harming behavior
Drug or alcohol abuse
Poor grades (may have given up or may not be able to concentrate)
Extreme concern for other family members and their safety

If you observe any of these changes, get help. A grieving parent is rarely able to be the sole source of intensive counsel for a bereaved child-someone outside the grief circle may be a better choice.

Adult children-even those married and with kids of their own-are also changed forever by saying “good-bye” to a brother or sister. Addiction, depression and physical health issues can surface in the wake of loss.

It’s not always easy to connect the dots back to grief since life is full of stress and strain and they may need help.

My children have been blessed to have friends and loved ones who give them a safe place to go when grief overwhelms them or when other stressors on top of grief make life really hard.

If you know a bereaved sibling:

Reach out.
Be an encourager.
Don’t assume that because time has gone by, they are all better.
They may not want to talk about it and that’s OK. But if they do, listen. Without platitudes, without judgement-just be a safe place.
And if you notice something that’s just not “quite right” try to get them the help they may need to make it through this hard place.

Bereaved families are often doing the best they can, but they can’t do it alone.

When you bless my earthly children, you bless me. When you give them space to grieve, you give me space to breathe. When you encourage them, you encourage my heart too.

Don’t forget them.

Please.

Priorities

Browsing a book store (a favorite pasttime) I came on this selection in a collection of poems by Robert Frost:

A Time to Talk

When a friend calls to me from the road

And slows his horse to a meaning walk,

I don’t stand still and look around

On all the hills I haven’t hoed,

And shout from where I am, What is it?

No, not as there is a time to talk.

I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,

Blade-end up and five feet tall,

And plod: I go up to the stone wall

For a friendly visit.

It pierced my heart.

How many times have I chosen to ignore a friend’s need for companionship-brushing past importantly as I pursued the day’s tasks?

“I’ll get around to it when I have more time,” I think to myself.

And then one day there is no more time. The friend I kept putting off has left this world for the next and I can’t retrieve the missed opportunities.

Nothing stings like words unsaid, hugs not given or love left bound in a heart instead of set free to bless another.

C.S. Lewis said:

“There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously – no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption.”

And I think I don’t have time?

Of all the souls born on this planet, Jesus had the most important work to do.

Yet He purposed to include people at every turn.

He healed the sick. He spoke hope to the woman at the well and the woman caught in adultery. He rebuked religious leaders who were more interested in burdening the faithful than guiding them to God.

Jesus walked everywhere-surely it would have been more EFFICIENT to let the Holy Spirit whisk Him from place to place as He did Phillip after speaking to the Ethiopian.

In walking, the Light of the World was building relationship-He was speaking truth to the twelve who would be the foundation of His church.

And relationship takes time. There is nothing instant about it.

It is clear from the life of Christ that after His Father, people were His priority.

Few of us will be called to great public tasks or lofty visionary ministry. But each of us has been called to carry the light and life of our Saviour to every person we meet.

If we are to follow in the footsteps of our Master, then people must be our priority too.

So I will set aside my “to do” list when someone comes calling. I will cross the street to meet that person I remember from school or church. I’ll send a card to the sick relative and remind her that I love her and will pray for her recovery.

I won’t lock love in my heart and hoard it like gold.

I’ll shed it abroad so that it speaks courage to everyone I meet.

“Imagine what our real neighborhoods would be like if each of us offered, as a matter of course, just one kind word to another person.”
– Mr. Rogers

Unnatural

All the fears I thought I knew

All the what-ifs I pondered during inky nights-

None of them-none. of. them. prepared me for this reality.

I have thought many times of my own death. Anyone past twenty-five has to consider that the farther you get from high school the closer you get to the grave.

So I put foolish and risky behavior behind me. Eat fiber. Exercise.

Wise choices, that’s the ticket.

But what about random? What about unexpected? What about lightning strikes and sudden curves?

How do you plan for that?

I know I’ll end some day. That’s the way of things. And I’m OK with that.

My children.

They are my legacy. They are the keepers of my light.

They are the part of me that will live beyond me.

Except one of them.

I am his legacy-the unanticipated keeper of HIS light.

It’s not supposed to be this way.

Yet here I am.

Unnatural. Unacceptable.

Unthinkable.

Inescapably real.

A Little Extra Grace

Each day I am reminded by sights, smells, sounds and memories that Dominic is in Heaven and not here.

But there are moments and seasons when his absence is particularly strong-when I can’t breathe in without also breathing a prayer, “Father, let me make it through this minute, this hour, this day.”

And that’s when I need grace-from family, friends and strangers.

Anyone who knows ANYONE that lives with loss knows that Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays and remembrance days are sure to be especially hard for those left behind.

What some may not know is that there are other, hidden, pitfalls on this journey through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

For many bereaved parents the beginning of the school year is one of them.

Even though my son was long past school age when he left, that shiny penny newness and promise of another year of school, another step toward maturity and the rest of life, another marker on the road to what every parent hopes will be a beautiful future is a painful reminder that my child won’t be doing anything new here on earth.

And a little extra grace goes a long way toward making this season easier to endure.

A bit more patience as I walk slowly across the parking lot, lost in thought and unaware you are behind me trying to get on with life or park your car.
A smile when I accidentally bump my cart into yours in the grocery aisle-having just passed his favorite food or smelled coffee and been instantly transported to his finicky passion for all things caffeine
Calm responses when I jump to conclusions, cut you off mid-sentence or answer a query with a less-than-kind tone of voice.

Want to be especially encouraging to a parent missing their child in heaven?

A text or message or a “thinking of you” card can turn a dismal day into one full of sunshine.
Do you have a special memory or memento you could share? What a gift!

If you see us in these next few days and weeks as thoughts and hearts turn from summer to a new semester, be patient-we are once again reminded that our child’s earthly story has ended.

It’s a hard truth to embrace.

Every. time.

Move On Already!

How long has it been? A year, two, eighteen or twenty-five?

When. are. you. going. to. move on?

Aren’t you over talking about their birth story, their childhood, their school years, their spouse, children, moves and career? How many funny stories or sad recollections do I have to listen to?????

I mean, really-it’s been soooooooooo00 long since they were BORN!

Sound’s ridiculous, doesn’t it? It IS ridiculous.

We don’t expect parents to “move on” or “get over” their living children.

Why, why, why do we expect parents to move on or get over the ones they’ve had to bury?

My love for each of my children, on earth or in heaven, is life-long.

I wrote about it here: Love: The Reason I Grieve

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