 |
| [PHOTO: Sara Biljana/Flickr/CC BY 2.0] |
New York: Most people
agree: There's an undercurrent of sadness to the holidays. We've all
experienced losses, and residual grief tends to resurface when the garland goes
up, the menorah is lit, and we notice grandma's empty chair. But what if you're
suffering a fresh, profound loss? What if a spouse, a best friend, or—God
forbid—a child has died during the past year?
"While it's hard to quantify grief, to say 'my loss
trumps your loss,' we all know there are losses that sadden and there are
losses that devastate," says Arleah Shechtman, author of the new book My
Beloved Child : My journey since the death of my daughter. "And the
first Christmas or Hanukkah after a devastating loss—really any 'first' without
the loved one—can be almost unbearably painful."
Shechtman—whose book traces her grief journey since her
daughter's death 35 years ago—says the holidays create idealized expectations
that can't possibly be met. For those experiencing extreme grief, the holidays
aren't just a letdown; they're a painful reminder of what you no longer have.
"I remember being so angry that first Christmas because
everyone was laughing and sharing and I had to visit my child at the cemetery,"
she says.
So how can those suffering from extreme grief survive the
holidays? Shechtman offers a few tips:
Break down when you need to break down. (Yes, even in the
middle of the office Christmas party.) Grief doesn't always arrive at
convenient times, but it shouldn't be squelched. Find a bathroom or go outside,
but cry and scream if you have to.
"Never fake it," advises Shechtman. "Never
soldier through it. Only by 'riding the waves' of grief, even when it makes
others uncomfortable, can you ever begin to heal."
If you feel like going to the holiday event, go. If you
don't, don't. "Grief ebbs and flows, and often after a period of intense
crying you will feel okay for a while," says Shechtman. "If you're in
an 'ebb' and think you might enjoy a candlelight service, then go. Take grief
as it comes."
Forget seasonal "obligations." Take care of
yourself first. "If you just can't show up for a holiday dinner, it's
okay," says Shechtman. "If you can't face shopping for your
grandchildren, don't. They have too much stuff anyway! Those who care about you
will understand."
When you need to, call someone on your "List of
10." Historically, extreme loss was handled in the context of family,
friends, church, and community. In our current culture, families are scattered
and fragmented, and communities and churches have been devalued. That's why
Shechtman suggests cobbling together a list of 10 people you trust who agree to
be there when you need them—even at 2 a.m.
"After Sharon died I would call the people on my list,
one by one, to see if they were up to my grief at the moment," she says.
"Grief requires comfort, a hard thing to keep asking for."
Find a way to honor your lost loved one during the holidays.
Hang a stocking for her. Prepare his
favorite meal. Do something meaningful to bring the person's presence into the
holidays.
"These rituals help you process the loss rather than
trying to squelch or deny it," says Shechtman.
Do something that brings you pleasure or comfort (even if it
isn't holiday-related). Go for a snowy hike, visit a spa, or pet cats at the
local animal shelter. The fact that you're grieving doesn't mean you can't
enjoy life.
"This last point is the hardest to believe, but it's
true," notes Shechtman. "You'll think, I'll never be happy again. You
will. Maybe not this Christmas or Hanukkah. Maybe not next year. But
eventually, you will.
"Making the choice to grieve—and it's one you must make
again and again for the rest of your life—expands your capacity for joy and
brings new richness to relationships," she adds. "If nothing else
sustains you this holiday season, hold on to this. Life will never be the same,
but it will be good again."