When my mom died, Christmas changed.
She maintained traditions of decorations, demeanor and digestion. I have adjusted and accepted her absence from my presence during the ordinary days of the year. But I still miss her at Christmas.
As I journey through this valley of the shadow of death from her passing, I often feel my “sad space” has been expropriated by the media, merchants and merry makers who saturate the season with words like happy, joyous and peaceful.
Beyond my personal pilgrimage, I am aware, as a funeral director, that many bereaved people would describe a blue Christmas as confusing, terrifying, depressing or just plain meaningless.
As the non-bereaved world debates the merits of a real or an artificial tree, my hope is that we struggling in the darkness to see the star will confront the real feelings of our loss.
We need to acknowledge we are normal. We have normal feelings that need to be expressed. Feelings articulated with words like, I can’t believe he/she are not here this Christmas; why did they die; I would like just to get off the planet until after Christmas. I wish I could hug them one more time and tell them I love them. I wish we hadn’t had that fight. I am relieved they are not suffering anymore.
The best gift you can give a bereaved person is the gift of listening. You need to be a proactive non-judgmental listener who let’s people tell their stories. The bereaved need to confront, not avoid Christmas by celebrating the gift of past Christmases; decorate and dedicate Christmas trees to celebrate the deceased person; use cherished recipes to create a covenant of food, which keeps us in communion with the original cooks; sing favourite carols, mindful that tears may provide the harmony.
Amidst maintaining the memories of the past, we need to establish new traditions of venue or menu. Perhaps have the Christmas dinner at a family member’s house who cooks a goose, not a turkey.
The new concepts are immune to comparison about what or who is lacking. We, the bereaved, need to be our own best friend rather than our own worst enemy in apologizing for how we feel.
A plan of action for advent would include:
- Keep a daily diary on how you feel. It allows you to document the good, the bad and the ugly.
- Tell family and friends to use the deceased’s name. You may cry, but you love to hear the name, so it’s OK to say it often.
- Dedicate 15 minutes daily just for you. Unplug the world and balance yourself.
- Volunteer for a worthy cause. Helping someone else helps you.
- Celebrate the 12 cups of Christmas coffee with friends – everyone at the funeral told you to call them – so do it.
- Visit the cemetery or burial place and bring a token gift and have a good visit with your loved one.
- Give hugs as gifts to non-verbally stay connected.
These suggestions and a good support system will let us proclaim the Christmas story as found in the Gospel of John: “The light came into the world and the darkness has never put it out.”
Gerry M. Lougheed Jr. is the manager of Lougheed/Jackson Barnard Funeral Homes, past chair of the Bereavement Foundation of Sudbury and past chair of Maison McCulloch Hospice.
