How is it possible that Christmas is barely two weeks away? Most of 2021 went by at a snail’s pace, but November flew past in double-time. As we prepare to gather with our friends and family, remember to make room for grief.
The loved one that is no longer here in the physical world to share in the holiday celebrations can be with all of you in spirit. Don’t worry, I’m not talking about channeling them with an Ouija board or using some ghost hunting device to capture ‘messages.’ Keep a framed photo of them near the dinner table, or a favorite memento on the fireplace hearth, or wear something you have of theirs in their honor. Let them be a natural part of the celebrations.
If you have young children in your life and wish to keep the memory of the loved one that passed alive, I’ve got some ideas to keep them in the conversation. At the holiday meal, share a story about your loved one. Others will feel welcome to do the same because you addressed the elephant in the room. If that seems too much, how about decorating a shoebox like a present, cutting a slot in the lid, then asking people to write a note to deposit here? People can lift the lid off and read the notes in their own quiet space. Some may want to go the whole Les Miserable route and leave an empty chair at the table. There’s no right or wrong way to mark the loss of your loved one. Do what feels right. Improvise or tweak what doesn’t quite work. Include others. Just try.
Regardless, remember to make room for your grief. It will hit at the strangest times, won’t it? Thanks to my birthday last week, I’ve compiled a list of great quick-getaway-excuses if the tears threaten to roll down your cheeks. Here are a few:
Sorry, I’m about to sneeze
Onions, phew! They always get me
I’m allergic to the Christmas tree
I was just thinking about the ending of Old Yeller, remember that movie?
Or a simple, ‘Excuse me,’ and escape to the bathroom for a spell
I didn’t add, “I flocked myself with the tree,” because it didn’t work
Last week was my first birthday without my father, Gary Riley. My eldest had come to town with their partner. My husband had decorated the kitchen with dog-themed pennants, pinatas, honeycombed ornaments, and confetti. It was a beautiful day, start to finish. Still, though, we all knew what was missing. As I decorated the tree, I streamed Christmas tunes on a speaker. A song by Andy Williams played, a very Gary Riley tune, and I couldn’t hold back the tears. Nora’s partner, Josh, walked downstairs and caught me. I said I’d flocked myself with the tree and needed to sneeze. A bunch of Gary Riley puns flew off my tongue, ‘Flocking A,’ ‘What the flock?’ ‘Happy flocking holiday,’ etc. I apologized and escaped to the bathroom. It only took a few minutes to ride the wave of emotions, but when I emerged I explained I’d had a missing-my-dad-moment. No one shamed me. Of course, they didn’t. I knew they wouldn’t. In fact, I got squeezed on all sides and soon my spirits lifted.
Dad checked up on me all day, in fact a hummingbird flitted outside the windows on and off throughout the morning. That evening while the night owls visited and gamed downstairs, I went to bed. I read through Dad’s birthday texts to me from last year. I hugged my phone and fell asleep to Patsy Cline’s, Sweet Dreams, playing through my head.
Wishing all of you joy, healing, and a knowing that you are not alone in this. I’m with you, as are countless others. We care. We will be okay. I love you. <3 Jennifer