Thoughts on grief and loss as the holidays approach.

Today marks nine years since my dad died. The anniversary of his passing, is hitting differently this year because in a few days, it will have been nine months since I also lost my mom. I still think about my parents every day, but the grief and the sense of loss – continue to evolve over time. The proverbial “holidays” are also approaching; that time of year where everyone is supposed to be “merry” and “full of joy.” For some, it really is the most wonderful time of year. For others, it can be hard for many different reasons. It may just be the bustle of the season causing stress, trying to visit everyone, make things perfect for their kids, or finding the perfect “gifts”. Sometimes, painful memories resurface or the reminder of people no longer with us causes sadness. It might feel lonely to some because they can’t get home for whatever reason. One doesn’t even need to celebrate Christmas to feel isolated. Many businesses are closed and friends are preoccupied. The fact that we’re in the last few weeks descending toward the darkest time of year probably doesn’t help much either. I saw a patient yesterday who has been struggling with her mental health and reported she always does at this time of year, for no particular reason. For me, some holiday seasons have been good, some not, but I know this is going to be a rough one because it will be the first one with both of my parents gone. I have to admit, I’ve been experiencing a little dread and feelings of avoidance about all of it.

I personally, was never really into how commercial everything has become. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to give gifts and receive nice things, but I’ve always preferred the gift of presence to presents. When my parents were both alive, my focus during the holidays was spending time with them, especially as they got older. Sometimes, I had to take a time out, and would travel to get away from the pressure, chaos and family dynamics but those times I was away, were minimal in their later years. Two of my happiest Christmas memories are of my dad. There was the year one Christmas Eve when, after years of playing cribbage against him, in a shocking result, I finally won a game! Another was when I was supposed to be in the UK for Christmas and I decided to come home early and surprise my parents. I snuck into their house Christmas Eve and was trying to stealthily sleep on the couch to avoid waking them up. My dad got up in the middle of the night and saw me, and was dumbfounded. He woke my mom and said: Guess what? We got a real Christmas present! He might have even said: There really is a Santa Claus! He was referring of course, to the fact that I had come home for Christmas. Presence, not presents.

It’s been a hard year for lots of people around me. Many people I know have been dealing with ailing parents or losing parents or other loved ones. I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in years at the hospice my mom was in because her dad was in a room across the hall. “What a shitty reason to run into each other” she said. Indeed, it was. Numerous people close to me have also had to say good-bye to their beloved pets. I felt heartbroken for each one of them. It has been a reminder that I will have to do that in the coming years, as my giant, fuzzy, beloved Leonberger Joni approaches her 10^th birthday.

When you lose someone, all the ‘firsts’ and anniversaries can be really hard. This year, my parents’ anniversary, mother’s day, father’s day, mom’s birthday, dad’s birthday, my birthday. . . have all already passed. Now, as the first Christmas without both of them approaches, I know it will be hard, but I am thankful for the good memories created over the years. Last year, given her declining health, I was pretty sure it would be my mom’s last Christmas. So, my focus was on making it special for her. “I really want to thank you for making it a really nice Christmas” she said to me. I’m so grateful I was able to do that.

I used to speak to my mom every day, often multiple times per day. After she first passed and I returned to work, I’d find myself crying in the car because I used to call her on my way to and from work to see how she was doing. The routine, had left with her. It happens less often now but there are still moments where I think: I should call my mom. . .oh right. As time passes and the grief of losing both of them shifts and morphs and becomes a little easier to carry, I think about what a friend said to me while my mom was in hospice: It’s weird not having parents anymore. He had also lost both of his. I hadn’t fully connected with that statement at the time, but now, every time it comes to mind, it feels at a minimum like a heavy sigh, and at worst, like a gut punch. Itis weird not having parents anymore.

Difficult times can bring out the best and worst of people and loss makes you realize what’s most important in life, whom and what to let go of and conversely, to embrace. Sometimes cracks in families and friendships become chasms. Sometimes, people show up, show love and create joy in ways for you that you didn’t expect (thank you to my friends and family who fit into this category). So, as I reflect on grief and loss and cracks and chasms, it’s also helpful to think about the extra space I now have in my life, and as the famous Leonard Cohen quote goes: “There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

I imagine I will continue to think about and miss my mom and dad every day for many years to come. However, I will work on making each day, the best possible day it can be. What that looks like each day will vary of course, but I will focus on connection and doing what matters. I will try to let in as much light as I can on any given day, and I know that is progress. Instead of avoiding participating in “holiday” activities and feeling dread, I’m going to lean in, and recognize there will be hard moments but it’s also an opportunity to build new happy memories.

For me, writing is therapeutic. I hope anyone reading this who can relate to what I’m saying is able to find therapeutic activities as well. If you know me and want to connect or just need someone to listen, please don’t hesitate to reach out.

Letting the sunlight in