The holiday season is upon us. For some of you this will be the first Christmas and New Year w/o your LO. What will that mean to you? How will you feel? Whether it was your parent, grandparent, sibling or spouse, it'll be a difficult and emotional time. The grief of your loss will set in if it hasn't already. And as much as you want to you can't just get over grief, you can't snap out of it.
Whether it's a parent, a spouse or someone special, grieving is difficult, it's complex. It's sometimes confused with depression, but there are meds for depression. Not so with grief. Getting better depends on building a new life. That doesn't mean forgetting your LO, nor does it mean no more sadness. Who are you now w/o your LO? What defines your life? What will be your new normal? Answering these questions will give you an action plan for recovery. Grief is not a life sentence.
I recall my first holidays w/o my wife. Sadness, loneliness, and tears were the prevailing emotions. For those who have lost a spouse it is especially difficult. What used to be “we” is now “me”. You've lost the intimacy, your future plans, your life's companion and the mere comfort of his/her presence. For me it was the simple loss of holding hands, snuggling on the couch, a peck on the cheek. And although I grieve no more (it's been 3 years), I miss her dearly.
The two “G” words crop up often in this forum when dealing with a LO's death... grief and guilt. Grief is the normal reaction to the loss of a LO. Guilt is always misplaced. Don't feel guilty about what you coulda/shoulda/woulda done and don't let anyone cause you to feel guilty. They have no experience with what you're going through. And don't look in the rear view mirror, life is in front of you. Instead celebrate your relationship, your years together, your joyful moments, reminisce. Remembering and reminiscing can be very cathartic. Nevertheless, recalling a moment, revisiting a familiar place, or even hearing a certain song may trigger a grief burst where the tears just come. That's OK. Hearing Jimmy Durante's “I'll See You in My Dreams” or “The September Song” does it for me.
It's not just time that will heal you, it's time and choice. Make the choice to address your grief so next year at this time and each following year you'll be able to say, “I'm doing better” until at last you no longer grieve. The pain will go away, the sorrow may last longer but the memories will never fade. Love never dies. Resolving grief is a process that we all complete in our own time.
I want to assure those of you whose heart is broken and who is grieving for the loss of someone you loved, that you are not alone in your journey and that your life WILL get better. God bless you all. I wish you peace.
And while yes, these first holidays without my husband have been difficult, I am still choosing to celebrate them, as he would want me to. Especially Christmas. He knew how much I loved Christmas and all that it entails, and he enjoyed it too, so I know that he certainly wouldn't want me moping around on my favorite holiday. And so I won't. There still(most likely)may be tears, at some point in the day, but I will also be grateful that I once again get to spend Christmas with those I love the most, my family.
For me there is no grief. There truly wasn't much. He didn't want to stay and was ready to go. He feared the future and losses; he and I are both SO into control; he knew his diagnosis of probable early Lewy's Dementia would means losses in future that he feared. At 85, a gay man, he had had a good life, one in which he saw so much change. He was ready. I could only feel relief that he didn't have to go into darkness, here with losses of self, of dignity. I celebrate him every day of my life and always will. I think of him, reread his long fascinating letters, make a scrapbook of collages to him, and thought I would tell him were he here.
I am at peace. I know he is at peace, and quite honestly that has overall been how we lived our lives, fascinated with humanity and its wonder and fragility, at peace with our lives. For me things aren't a lot different. I looked at him on his pictures from AFL last year, all done up in reinbow antlers, those silly felt things with bells, grinning out at me. I just can't pick up the phone, you know? I just can't plan a plane trip to him, lunch out at Billy Reed's. But he is with me; I feel the same about my parents. It is as though they haven't left me.
I am thankful for your asking. I think about it a lot, especially on walks.