Pretty soon, there won’t be a holiday left that doesn’t relate to a loss for me. Maybe it comes with age as we become more and more aware of losing family and friends at a speedier pace. I’m not alone in noting ages that appear in obituaries, with many being near my own these days.
Sadly, too many are even younger.
Halloween is one time that carries that additional weight for me because our daughter Michele went home just prior to the big occasion. It was big to her because she relished making all the plans for who she would be. Halloween gave her an opportunity to imagine herself as someone beyond her physical limitations such as the year she was “The Fonz” riding a motorcycle, or “Princess” of G-Force from her favorite anime show.
My mom passed at Easter time; my husband, Gordy, just before Christmas. Sadly, we just lost another family member, my brother’s wife, Cathy, Thanksgiving week. Everyone has lost someone and many face certain days or occasions with the added burden of the dates triggering emotional impact.
If you’ve ever seen the movie, “Grumpy Old Men,” Ann-Margret’s character tells a hospitalized Jack Lemmon, her movie love interest, she’s glad his heart attack didn’t take him at Christmas, leaving her no holiday to really celebrate as she enumerates connections to other personal losses.
Christmas is a time of celebration. Acknowledging the birth of Jesus the Savior in Bethlehem is a priority for many. Merriment also abounds as families and friends gather. These events also underscore who is no longer present. For those experiencing recent or remembered loss, this time of year can feel heavy.
While we welcome the light and hope of the Advent season, it is also true some have difficulty feeling joyful. “For many—and perhaps for more of us than would care to admit it—this season transports our greatest fears, losses, realities and shattered hopes into a time when most people are singing, socializing, and enjoying life to the fullest.”
This quote comes from a book that has helped me, “Blue Christmas—Devotions of Light in a Season of Darkness” by Todd Outcalt (Upper Room Books). The author also notes, “We may feel even more lost, abandoned, more lonely and more afraid at this time.” I found the book in the bottom of a box of holiday videos and have begun to revisit its themes. Brief daily readings help by giving “permission to sit with these experiences” while also relating to the grace offered in this sacred season.
It’s not an outlier to feel this ‘blueness.’ Even Elvis sang about having a blue, blue Christmas. Some communities have special services designed to help those who’ve lost loved ones to navigate what’s going on around them. Some are special church services. Others include tree lightings where bulbs or ornaments honor the memory of a special person. I’ve attended a few of these, here and in Michigan. They can be very emotional, but also meaningful.
Some people develop special practices or rituals of their own to keep loved ones close. For many years, I made annual purchases of colored globes with our daughter’s name engraved on them; several still line my mantel. After Gordy’s death, I bought a few engraved with his name, then switched the commemoration to ornaments that made statements about who they were in life. Michele’s included a dancer, for she danced in her wheelchair and in her dreams here, but now does it for real in heaven; another depicts a stack of books and one that reads, “I Love My Library,” which she did as a voracious reader.
Gordy’s are mostly agriculture related: a tractor, a greenhouse, one that says, “God Bless the Farmer,” and one with a fisherman theme. As mentioned in a previous column, however, I get out fewer decorations each year now, so I had to stop adding to the collections. I have, on occasion, found special items to take up into Chestnut Hill, but one thing I’ve learned with the passage of time is people live on in our hearts and memories. Wherever I go, they are with me. We don’t need material items to make it so.
Despite the blues that can visit, I’ve learned the same seasons, especially Christmas, can offer small blessings. As my Christmas cactus bloomed like crazy this year for the first time, I remember my mother-in-law, Pat, and how she had the touch with hers. They never failed to blossom.
The Santa house in Lincoln Park transported me to 1950s Olean with my mom and dad, driving under the arbor of lights the length of Union Street, and visiting the “real” Santa in the basement of Montgomery Ward.
Buying a book to put under the tree for myself, memories flowed of holiday bookstore visits with Gordy and Michele.
As with any memory, some may trigger a mood; some tears. Viewed in the right light, possibly a twinkly light, some of the season’s joys may return to your heart.
(Contact contributor Deb Wuethrich at [email protected])
