Handling the Holidays

Newsletter Vol. 11

The holidays usher in memories and traditions that can be both comforting and triggering. As we take our decorations out of storage, each item may carry its own story, memory, joy, and sadness. We gently unwrap our past, recalling the history of each ornament, the very first one, the baby’s first, the special ones bought on vacations, the gifts from old friends and neighbors, and the lumpy, glittery creations made in preschool days.

I go up into the attic pre-Thanksgiving to retrieve the handmade wooden turkey from Aunt Nancy and Uncle Frank. They were a crafter’s dream team creating handmade delights every year. At Christmas, the creche my father built comes out of storage. I keep it with its original hay that now looks more like sawdust than hay. My tree is bedecked with my mother’s crocheted snowflakes. I miss all my loved ones who have moved on, but especially my parents. As more years go by, the early pain of grief has subsided to a wistful fondness.

If you have lost a loved one this year, these days can pose a special challenge for you. You may not feel thankful at Thanksgiving, merry at Christmas, or happy on New Year’s. The hustle and bustle of the season stand in sharp contrast to the energy of grief. The stores are awash with bling and dazzle, the holiday lights glare too brightly, and the music sounds too loud. The world goes on, and it doesn’t feel right, because nothing feels right when you’re grieving. This is natural.

Now you must decide how to approach these days. Shall you keep to your family traditions? Does the idea seem impossible? Might you consider an alternative plan?

I once had a client who had lost her dear mom two months before Thanksgiving. She was very close to her mom and took it hard. Her cousins insisted on upholding the routine and requested her presence at their dinner. They told her it was for her own good, then layered on the guilt by saying that her mother would have wanted it. Could they know this for certain? Were they guessing, projecting, assuming?

Grief is hard enough as it, but layering ourselves with imagined obligations and duty owed to the deceased only makes it harder. Free yourself from this supposition. The truth is, no one knows. Perhaps her mom might have wanted what was best for her. Maybe her mom would have said, “Life is short darling, go take a cruise.” Now is the time to do what is best for you, as you are still healing. It’s okay to take a break from tradition this year. It’s okay to do things differently.

In our session, I offered some alternate ideas, and her mouth fell open as she said, “Can I really do that?” Yes, I laughed, “Permission granted!” She could allow herself a different year, and perhaps go back to the old ways next year when things had settled a bit and the pain was less intense. Her cousins would get over it. There are always options.

I have known families who collectively agreed that they could not sit down at that dining room table and stare at the empty chair. The thought of someone else filling the chair was equally unappealing. Some decided to seek a change of scenery and rented a cabin in the woods, taking long hikes by day, making fires by night, and working puzzles together. Another family decided to volunteer in a soup kitchen, which they found so satisfying that they decided to make it a new tradition. One woman drove cross-country visiting old friends along the way. She needed to be out of view of people she imagined were feeling sorry for her. She found relief in being alone. Others chose the traditional route, but added starting the day with a visit to the cemetery, or a religious service. Some started the meal by lighting a candle and placing it near a photograph of the person they were missing. Some decided to ignore the day, stay home in their pajamas, take a nap, and binge on Netflix. There is no right or wrong, there are no rules. This is a difficult year, a year in which you will slowly begin to embark upon your new life.

You may want to hold to tradition because it’s the known way, and more comfortable. If so, entertain the idea of modifications. You can advocate for yourself by having a conversation with your host in advance, sharing your hesitation, telling them that some days are harder than others and if you wake up feeling awful, you might need to cancel, and you hope that they won’t take it personally and be offended. In the early days of grief invitations are often met with hesitation. Am I ready? Should I go? Will I be able to maintain composure? Will this comfort me or hurt? Will my grief be the elephant in the room, casting a pall across the dinner table? Can I fake happiness? Is it even possible to enjoy myself right now?

There is no one right thing. What you need most of all, is to listen inwardly, trust your gut as best as you can, and stand your ground. Clear communication can minimize the likelihood of conflict. Have conversations with other members of your family about their expectations. Assure them that they do not need to entertain you, babysit you, or try and make you happy. Most people, especially those who have suffered their own losses, will understand. There may be those who will not. I have heard stories of relatives getting mad at the mourner because they were supposed to bring the green bean casserole, and cancelled at the last minute, and now they have no vegetable. It sounds petty, but it happens. You may not be up to baking a dish. If you know your host/hostess well enough to suspect this could be the case, offer to provide the wine, or flowers instead. You can even do this in advance. You know your relatives best. Hopefully they are kind and understanding. Remember that small concessions and compromises can smooth the way in this bumpy terrain.

They may be grieving too and grieving in a completely different way than you. Everyone grieves differently, and the holidays will bring family members with their different grieving styles and different expectations together. Adult children who have lost one parent may be surprised to walk into their childhood home and feel deeply saddened. Unlike the surviving parent who faces their grief daily, adult children are heavily distracted by busy careers, households to run, children to raise. The opening of time and space in their holiday can catch them off guard. It is hard to be prepared, for grief walks no linear path. It surprises us with intensity when we least expect it.

Having a plan for how to deal with unexpected triggers can help. Flexibility and a wide lens on perspective can help. The best you can do is try and clarify your own wishes and expectations, check in with your family as to their expectations, and seek a mutual agreement. Suggesting an alternative celebration may be a relief to them. They may be dreading the empty chair, but following their own sense of obligation. Know that all of your holidays will not be like they are this year. The world is a great big wonderful place that will open up new adventures for you, in time. For now, simply reach for moments of peace and meaning in this new season.

Consider your needs and your limits. Hold no judgement against yourself or others. Advocate for yourself and be kind. You will survive the day. You might actually have a wonderful time. You might forge a new and unique path that strengthens you, builds your confidence, and serves as a role model for others.