Christmas Sadness
This is the first Christmas in 55 years that my Mom will spend without my Dad. My Christmas memories are chock full of Dad memories, in the morning he’d make us wait and wait while he built a fire and turned on Christmas music, then he’d sit next to the tree in his blue bathrobe, like the king of Christmas and hand out our presents one at a time, with deliberate agonizing slowness, cheerfully examining each gift, ignoring our impatience, deflecting our pleas for an immediate orgy of greed. Turning the whole process into a family event, where we actually payed attention to everyone, talked to each other, and laughed a lot. I miss him.
Life Sucks sometimes, eh?
We all struggle, and the joy of the season sometimes makes the pain cut even deeper. As daughters and mothers, sisters and friends, how do we mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those who need comfort in the midst of all this hall decking jingle belling ho ho ho-ing merriness?
I hope you and your mom and family manage to have a merry Christmas in spite of his absence… my heart goes out to you.
Comment by Rich — December 24, 2008 @ 11:51 am
A coworker’s mother died yesterday, and a good friend seems to be struggling with a lot of stress, so I’ve been grappling with the same question. This season is supposed to be about cheer and joy. But the sorrows of life don’t take the holiday off, and the pain can be even keener due to the contrast. If we try to catch them up in the spirit of the season, will it mock their pain, not give them the chance they need to come to terms with their emotions? On the other hand, if we are solemn, do we miss out on the chance to lift their spirits? It is a vexing challenge.
Comment by Derek — December 24, 2008 @ 12:30 pm
Lisa, I echo Rich. May your family find joy in the midst of the sorrow that cannot be eliminated. May this Christmas be bittersweet.
As to your question, I believe we need to look for those who suffer during times of general joy - and step into their lives or allow them to step into ours. I believe we need to share their sorrow, even in slience, but also allow them to share our joy. Words are a start; open homes (theirs or ours) are better.
If we know of someone who is alone at a time like this, we should move Heaven and Hell to make it not be so.
Comment by Ray — December 24, 2008 @ 12:54 pm
I think that, first of all, we remember that the season ISN’T SUPPOSED to be about cheer and joy — it’s about the birth of our Lord, and the Atonoment his birth made possible.
My best friend, who has had more mourning and need of comfort than you can shake a stick at, said that the people who helped her the most weren’t the ones who said things like ‘this must be so hard for you’ — they were the people who called or spoke up or sent notes or emails that said, “Hey, I was just thinking about you. Do you remember that time that we went camping with your dad and forgot the toilet paper?” It wasn’t the fakey-trying-to-make-you-laugh sort of co-mourning — they were mourning the thing that was lost, reminding her that someone else remembered and shared a portion of her loss.
Nothing we can do is going to make people in pain any happier about the garlands and jingle-bells and weird-singing-animatronic-reindeer, but we can remind people that we’re thinking about them and who they’re mourning — that they aren’t *alone* in their mourning. And not being alone is pretty much the point of that whole Atonement thing.
Comment by Meredith — December 24, 2008 @ 1:41 pm
As daughters and mothers, sisters and friends, how do we mourn with those that mourn, and comfort those who need comfort in the midst of all this hall decking jingle belling ho ho ho-ing merriness?
Holidays can provide an appalling contrast to the inner state of those who mourn. At Christmas, so many of the traditions and memories were originally experienced with those who have died, as you share so beautifully about your dad. Lisa, I’m sorry. I know your Christmas will never be the same without your father. I am sorry for the pain and the changes that you have been forced to accommodate.
It is important for many people to share that life has changed- irrevocably for those left behind. It is to be expected that holidays, anniversaries, birthdays and milestones will bring about the familiar pangs of loss and even serious crying jags…maybe lapses into depression. If you love someone who endures this pain, just stand firm and resolute in your presence and affection…as difficult as it is to witness, it is ten times more difficult to experience.
Calling, stopping by or sending a card or sending a precious picture of a loved one who has died is a nice way to let a grieving person know that he/she is not the only one who remembers the value of the person who is gone. If the person who mourns wants to talk about the loved one who has died, just listen and maybe share something you miss about the person too. Just allow the individual to experience the emotions he/she actually has…don’t tell her/him what should be felt instead. (i.e.- “It’s Christmas…you should be happy…you have so many blessings!”) Just let them be. Love them. Hold them. As a veteran of loss, I cannot tell you how grateful I am to the compassionate souls who just allowed me to express my truth without correction or judgment.
My mother is terminally ill. This may be our last Christmas- I’m on borrowed time. I am thankful that so far, everyone understands that I may leave the room a few times because I don’t know if I can bear it cheerfully the whole day. I’ve already got people covering for me if I make a hasty exit. This impending loss heightens the feelings of loss over those I’m already missing. I have family and dear friends who are military and I’m afraid to lose them too. Military families especially appreciate a call or a card acknowledging their loved one’s service and any offer of support you can make.
There is nothing in this world lonelier than grief…especially when everybody is caught up in a frenzy of joy.
Comment by Kimberly — December 24, 2008 @ 1:50 pm
I found it- a verse written by my friend, Mitch, whose son died.
Comment by Kimberly — December 24, 2008 @ 2:24 pm
I really liked what Meredith said.
I wish I knew what else to say other than thank you for the reminder that there aren’t only the homeless and hungry who we should remember, but the lonely and downtrodden, those who must go on with life though it seems life left them.
You and yours will be in my thoughts and prayers this Christmas. May we all remember what truly matters this year, and hold our family and friends a little closer than perhaps we have lately.
Comment by LisaJ — December 24, 2008 @ 2:46 pm
I am not sure if it is because I come from a long line of farmers, but I do not have these sad feelings about someone’s passing. To quote Mrs. Gump, “death is just part of life.” I don’t think of what my brother would be doing if he were still here today, rather I feast on the fun mischief that he is best remembered for.
I encourage people not to think of the passing as a loss but rather to revel in the gift that was brought to you.
Comment by StillConfused — December 24, 2008 @ 2:47 pm
In the hope of sharing a morsel of comfort, I remembered that Socrates had some profoundly positive thoughts to offer regarding death. I especially like this one:
Comment by Rich — December 24, 2008 @ 2:53 pm
Fwiw, this posted today on Mormon Matters. I was thinking of examples exactly like this (or, more accurately, the widow who has no family near) when I wrote the final paragraph:
Celebrating Jesus’ Birth: Building His Kingdom of Nobodies
Comment by Ray — December 24, 2008 @ 3:04 pm
Lisa, we mourn with you. Christmas is a mixed bag of emotions, and one of the sharpest is loss. At a time when family, friends, and cheer are emphasized, the hole left by loved ones who should be with us sometimes stretches to a gaping maw of loneliness.
I have loved your beautiful posts about your dad, from the one about not liking being the youngest anymore to his final stroke to his final days, funeral, obit, and beyond. All of them allow us to be your sisters, brothers, and friends and celebrate his life and mourn his passing with you. I think you have shown us part of the answer to your question–we share, we reach out, we grieve, and allow others to be there for us so we can learn how to be there for them. Thank you for that.
Bless you, my friend. You are loved.
Comment by idahospud — December 24, 2008 @ 3:05 pm
Our daughter left us on the afternoon of 20th October just a few months now. It seems like a hundred years. We miss her lovely smile and twinkling eyes, we are going with her husband tomorrow to put some candles beside the grave. My wife and I have taken all the pictures down just for a while, it just brings tears to see so many memories which are just made real by the photographs. Cheryl was 35 and dided of a heart attack, after being revived three times she was on life support till she left us. How empty and quiet our christmas is.We had to wrap some presents last night and when we finished there were no presents for Chery. So short a life and so sudden her tragic end
Comment by disilain — December 24, 2008 @ 3:38 pm
I miss my mother desperately this Christmas, as I have every Christmas since she died.
It’s been eleven years, and this is the first one that isn’t agonizing as a result. I do appreciate the conversation I had yesterday with my step-mother, where we talked about the fact that some things are always sad, some things never get better, and that grief can permanently change us. It was actually comforting. I wonder if that’s part of mourning with those who mourn - letting them be sad, not trying to make them “make the best of it”, acknowledging that some things are always, always sad. I really appreciated it, especially coming from my step-mother, who didn’t take my grief and longing for my mother on this Christmas personally as a strike against her. Just as I didn’t take her longing for a biological daughter of her own and her grief that she would never have one personally as a strike against me.
Comment by Katie P. — December 25, 2008 @ 8:14 am
What should be more joyful than the fact that Our Father gave us the gift of His son, so that we might have the chance to rise above our mortal weaknesses and frailties, to rise as something so much more glorious?
Comment by Derek — December 25, 2008 @ 3:29 pm
My son’s close friend died 3 weeks ago. He was only 18, a senior in high school. We have anguished over this sudden loss, grieved with the family and dreaded Christmas. We bought heart locket necklaces for the mom, grandmother and sisters; and photo key chains for the dad, grandfather and brothers and inserted pictures of their 18 year old son/brother. We gave them to the family on Christmas Eve. Later they called and told us that even though it made them cry, they appreciated the gifts and thanked us for taking the time to honor their son this way.
Comment by Bonnie — December 27, 2008 @ 1:36 am