I stood frozen with my empty plate before a buffet table loaded with platters and serving bowls of roasted turkey, stuffing, green beans, macaroni and cheese. Probably potatoes, too — but I can’t remember.
Feeling numb, I detached from the gathering’s conversations and festive energy. Stuck in hurting. People around me blurred together. Then a man’s words broke through my haze: “You just gonna stand there? Or get something to eat?”
Apologizing for holding up the line, I scooped food onto my plate for Thanksgiving dinner, the first meal of the holiday season I muddled through.
My then-husband and I had just separated. In my bones, I knew it was over and splitting was the right thing. Still, a necessary grief swallowed me. The only way through was a bit at a time, patches of pushing myself forward or freezing in place and many stretches of locking the doors and letting myself fall apart.
That Thanksgiving, I drove the few hours home and wept in my mom’s arms. My stepfather’s family welcomed me into their gatherings. By Christmas, I thought I was so much “better” — but my aunt still remembers my sadness on Christmas Eve, 12 years later.
No one told me to cheer up. No one told me what I should be doing or feeling.
Resist the Pressure of Holidays
It’s OK to muddle through the holidays. Maybe you just lost someone you love or a relationship. Maybe you know this will be the last holiday season with a loved one. Maybe you are blue around holiday time, recalling a loss or trauma — or even for no apparent reason.
It’s OK.
Resist the pressure to force joy or to be perfect or do it all. Skip some things. The holidays will come and go. Give yourself permission to feel all of it. Know the painful feelings will pass with time. Know you are held and loved — by forces seen and unseen. Hang in there.
This beautiful time can also be excruciating for people who are grieving, who have suffered a loss of any kind — whether a brother, sister, child or parent, a marriage, a job. Even a cherished pet, our best friends.
Our culture tends to be taboo about loss and grief. We sweep it away. We ignore it. We urge people to hide it. Let’s not ruin the holidays.
But loss is a part of life none of us can avoid, and it never takes a holiday. Holiday joy and cheer is not true, real and honest or even loving if it’s adding pressure to people already in pain, or leaving people alone in their pain.
Let’s be sure people who are hurting know they are not alone.
Connecting in Genuine and New Ways
Many people who have recently lost a family member are in my heart and thoughts — including the man who that Thanksgiving teased and snapped me back to the buffet line, nudging me forward, and his sister, who cooked the food. They lost their mother just a few weeks ago. She was a lovely, funny and strong woman who made sure I felt welcome in her family always, and particularly that holiday season.
Last year at this time, I was texting with my cousin — who is like a little brother to me — about all the planned festivities we were looking forward to. His Christmas was in Georgia. Mine was in Pennsylvania. A few texted words picked up a conversation we’d been having for years about fathers and daughters, projects in our old house, our shared joy of growing plants and gardens.
This spring, he died suddenly. Gone. Dammit. This morning, I thought a lot about him, speaking some messages out into the air, hoping he gets them. Love you, little brother. Hope you are at peace.
Let’s Be Real
So let’s be sure to gather and celebrate these holidays in a way that genuinely connects with people and be OK with any sadness and the full range of emotions.
And please, if you are grieving, give yourself permission to muddle through. Let yourself rest. Tune out the pressures of perfect and happy holiday time. Let’s be real.
Take what you need most from the holiday season. This year, maybe that’s the break from the routine, or the comfort found in music and candlelight (or the macaroni and cheese on the buffet table), connection to loved ones and a friend’s shoulder to lean upon. Many people find comfort in animals and nature.
The truth about the first holiday season after my first marriage ended is that I was OK. I was fine, doing what I needed to do to be healthy by expressing my sadness and anger, though it wasn’t pretty or fun to witness. I was lucky to be among people who loved me and lean into their strength. That connection sustained me until I could again feel true joy and peace. That’s what I most remember and celebrate.
