For those who’ve
recently lost someone they deeply loved, this is the season
of struggles. I
explain how to grieve when the world is trimming trees and singing carols.
By Arleah Shechtman
Guest Blogger
Most people agree: There’s an
undercurrent of sadness to the holidays. We’ve all experienced losses, and
residual grief tends to resurface when the garland goes up, the menorah is lit,
and we notice grandma’s empty chair. But what if you’re suffering a fresh,
profound loss? What if a spouse, a best friend, or—God forbid—a child has died
during the past year?
While it’s hard to quantify
grief, to say “my loss trumps your loss,” we all know there are losses that
sadden and there are losses that devastate. And the first Christmas or Hanukkah after a
devastating loss—really any “first” without the loved one—can be almost
unbearably painful.
My new book, My Beloved Child: My journey since the death of my daughter, traces my grief journey since my
daughter’s death 35 years ago. In my experience, the holidays create idealized
expectations that can’t possibly be met. For those experiencing extreme grief,
the holidays aren’t just a letdown; they’re a painful reminder of what you no
longer have.
I remember being so angry that
first Christmas because everyone was laughing and sharing and I had to visit my
child at the cemetery.
So how can those suffering from
extreme grief survive the holidays? Here are a few tips:
Break down when you need to break
down. (Yes, even in the middle of the office
Christmas party.) Grief doesn’t always arrive at convenient times, but it shouldn’t
be squelched. Find a bathroom or go outside, but cry and scream if you have
to.
Never
fake it. Never soldier through it. Only by “riding the waves” of grief, even
when it makes others uncomfortable, can you ever begin to heal.
If you feel like going to the
holiday event, go. If you don’t, don’t. Grief ebbs and flows, and often after a period of
intense crying you will feel okay for a while. If you’re in an “ebb” and think
you might enjoy a candlelight service, then go. Take grief as it comes.
Forget seasonal “obligations.”
Take care of yourself first.
If you just can’t show up for a holiday dinner, it’s okay. If you can’t face
shopping for your grandchildren, don’t. They have too much stuff anyway! Those
who care about you will understand.
When you need to, call someone on
your “List of 10.”
Historically,
extreme loss was handled in the context of family, friends, church, and
community. In our current culture, families are scattered and fragmented, and
communities and churches have been devalued. That’s why I suggest cobbling
together a list of 10 people you trust who agree to be there when you need
them—even at 2 a.m.
After
Sharon died I would call the people on my list, one by one, to see if they were
up to my grief at the moment. Grief requires comfort, a hard thing to keep
asking for.
Find a way to honor your lost
loved one during the holidays.
Hang a stocking for her. Prepare his
favorite meal. Do something meaningful to bring the person’s presence into the
holidays.
These
rituals help you process the loss rather than trying to squelch or deny it.
Do something that brings you
pleasure or comfort (even if it isn’t holiday-related). Go for a snowy hike, visit a spa,
or pet cats at the local animal shelter. The fact that you’re grieving doesn’t
mean you can’t enjoy life.
This last point is the hardest to
believe, but it’s true. You’ll think, I’ll
never be happy again. You will. Maybe not this Christmas or Hanukkah. Maybe
not next year. But eventually, you will.
Making the choice to grieve—and
it’s one you must make again and again for the rest of your life—expands your
capacity for joy and brings new richness to relationships. If nothing else sustains
you this holiday season, hold on to this. Life will never be the same, but it
will be good again.
# # #
About the Author:
Arleah Shechtman,
M.S.W., A.C.S.W., is the author of My
Beloved Child: My
journey since the death of my daughter (Fifth Wave Leadership
Publications, 2012, ISBN: 978-1-4750469-9-1, $13.95). She is a recognized expert on the impact of the death of a child, on
marriages, families, and individual survivors.
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