Guest post by Donna
Mebane.
For years I
made my children listen to Bing Crosby as we decorated the Christmas tree. One
day, I reasoned, I would be gone and I imagined them downloading ole Bing and
carrying on the tradition with their own children. When they got to the song, “Think of Me”
they’d pause, shed a little tear, think of all the good times we had, and be
sorry they complained incessantly about it so many years before.
Three years
ago, my youngest child, Emma, died. She was 19 years old. I no longer put up a
Christmas tree. Perhaps someday I will again. But I know I will never ever
again listen to Bing Crosby.
I don’t presume
that what I have done to get through three sets of holidays is right for others.
Everyone’s grief is different and so is their path to survival. My mother died
on New Year’s Day. My sister is a nurse and plans to work. My dad wants to do
everything exactly as it had been done when she was alive. My brother, the
introvert, plans to stay home, alone with his own thoughts. Each person knows
what he/she can handle and to the extent possible needs to create the space in
which to handle it.
The human
being has an amazing capacity to keep standing…an amazing will to keep living.
“I’d never survive the loss of one of my children,” I’d say knowingly whenever
I’d hear about such a horror. “I’d simply curl up in a ball and die.” But I
didn’t. I still wonder sometimes how it’s possible that I am still breathing.
But breathe I do. Every day, countless times a day.
The holidays
are still the worst of times, perhaps because at one time they were the best of
times. These things have helped me. I hope they help you whether you are
grieving the loss of a parent, a friend, a beloved pet, or heaven help you, a
child.
· Don’t ask too much of yourself. You are not yourself. In some ways you will never be again.
If you had lost a limb, you would not expect to go on as you had before. The
first year, I didn’t cook Thanksgiving dinner or shop for Christmas presents. I
had other children, sure. But I didn’t have Emma and that defined me. I gave
IOU’s for a family vacation to the other kids. It was easy and they were happy.
If I had young children, I would have asked friends and family to shop for me.
They would have. For that first year anyhow, they understood. Ask for help.
You’ll get it. People want to help. They can’t bring your loved one back, but
they’ll do anything else they can. They’ll be thankful they could do something
meaningful for you.
· Reshape traditions. We used to share what we were most thankful for over dessert at
Thanksgiving. We used to eat at the dining room table for special occasions. We
used to put up a Christmas tree and open presents in the same spot in our
living room. We hung stockings on our coat rack because Santa was ridiculously
generous with stocking stuffers and they would fall off the mantle. We used to
buy chocolate covered strawberries for Valentines. They were Emma’s favorites.
We stopped doing those things. But over time, we started doing other things. We
go to Christmas brunch. We have selected new seats for present opening in the
family room. We don’t hang stockings, we don’t put up a tree, we don’t use the
dining room. But we have created new traditions that make sense for the
reshaped family we have become. We have begun to look forward to these
traditions.
· Find ways to include the ones you have lost. This Christmas, the first without
my mother, I will make her favorite Christmas cookie which will forever now be
dubbed Bobbie’s pecan bars. Last Christmas, I bought presents for Emma’s dad
and siblings that were inspired by her – we see her in the shape of a star and
a cardinal and, once you start to look, you see them everywhere. I wrote little notes in her voice. They were the
hit of the holidays and all are proudly displayed in special places. I can’t
wait to look for other Emma gifts this year. Spend part of the holidays looking
for signs. You’ll see them. This year on Thanksgiving morning, I looked out the
kitchen window and there were literally dozens of cardinals all over the garden
and in nearly every branch of the tree we planted the first year in Emma’s
honor. We laughed – yes, laughed – and speculated that Emma must have taught
all of her friends to become cardinals too just so they could party at the
Mebane house.
· Say her name. Tell stories about him. One of the common reactions I’ve heard from friends
who have suffered loss is that no one talks about the person they’ve lost. They
somehow believe that not doing so will help…that perhaps it will be too painful
for you to hear their names. Of course it’s painful. But it’s even more so to
pretend they never existed. I want everyone to remember every aspect of Emma. I
want to hear the stories I know over and over. I want to discover stories I
don’t know. I need to know she mattered to every person who ever knew her. Even
after three years, her best friends still post on her Facebook and I answer
every one of them usually thanking them for “keeping Emma in your heart.”
People will take their cue from you. Talk about what you love most, miss most,
makes you the saddest, makes you the happiest. Say her name and others will
too.
· Take time for you. I have found that I need much more “me” time than I did before Emma died.
I get tired more often, especially after time with family and friends. I take
naps frequently. I often leave work to take a walk or just sit by myself in the
lounge. I’m not the conversationalist I used to be. I am comfortable with
silence. Me time may be tough to find during the holidays, but it’s essential
that you recognize when you need it and act on that need.
· Allow yourself to be sad but also to experience joy. It’s okay to cry. Christmas will
always make me sad – my mom’s death shadows memories of my own childhood;
Emma’s death shadows the present and the children she will never have will
shape the future. I plan for sadness and I embrace it when it comes. I sit down
by myself and write a letter to Emma or listen to her favorite songs or replay
the slide show we played at her funeral. I walk right into the pain rather than
try to hold it off. But I try to embrace joy when it comes too and it does
come. It will come for you. It may be filtered through the hole in your heart,
but it will come. You will laugh again and it will likely be during a holiday
when the love of family and friends can’t help but make you smile. Your
laughter, when it comes, will be the greatest gift you can give to others. They
are taking their cue from you. Be authentic. To be anything else takes too much
effort.
May memories
of your loved one bring you some happiness during this holiday season.
Wishing you
peace,
Donna
Donna Mebane is the author of the
fact-based-fiction novel, Tomorrow Comes—a daring coming-of-age book
in which an ordinary teenager must come to terms with her own mortality, the
loss of all she once knew, and an other-worldly set of rules.
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