Walking Through Grief During the Holidays, How I Felt Joy Again
The last time I saw my mother, Christmas decorations were still up. We were at one of our favorite vacation spots, and I had brought my children with me to crash their Christmas stay a few days after Christmas. I had been looking forward to this trip for months, as this was my first time to visit the resort at Christmastime. It was as beautiful as my mom had described it to me over the years. It was as if the photos she had shared with me were coming to life before my eyes. We found an excuse to drive through the display of lights just about every night we were there, and my dad humored us without complaint.
When I arrived at the resort, I remember falling into my mom’s arms, sinking into her hug. I stayed there longer than usual, soaking up the feeling of her arms around me as we embraced. Life had been very stressful for me the past several months, and I needed the comforting presence of my mom. I did not know that trip would be the last time I would have seen my mom, or that was to be one of the last hugs I received from her.
Now it is Christmas time again and I am having to navigate the holidays through the grief of losing her. She had a brain aneurysm that unexpectedly ended her life just days after that trip. It has been almost a year since she left this earth, and I feel that I am just beginning to process grief from her death. Not only do I feel at the beginning of this journey of grief, but I am navigating through this process during our favorite holiday.
Christmas fit my mother. It catered to her strengths. She took into account every detail so well, no one really noticed her efforts. Our family Christmas Eve party and traditional southern Christmas lunch showcased her hostessing skills. We have a large rambunctious family overflowing with childen and these times together were filled with our favorite traditional foods and lots of laughter. It amazes me how much work she did yet she was not stuck in the kitchen, she was well prepared so she was right in the middle of the festivities.
The nativity seemed more special with her around because of the love she radiated toward babies. Whenever a new child was born in the family, that child belonged in Mema’s arms. She taught her five daughters how to swaddle and soothe babies. She brought to life the precious newborn baby Jesus, and the impact Jesus’s birth had on our lives. On Christmas Eve my mother would sit in a rocking chair with all the grandchildren and great grandchildren in front of her. The rest of the family would crowd in the room and she would read us a Christmas book. Every time she got to the end of the book, she would say with a choked up voice in tears in her eyes “You came, Jesus. You really came. Thank you for coming.” If you looked around the room, many of us would be wiping the tears from our eyes. Every year it was the same, I can still hear her voice so clearly when I think of this moment. The array of children sitting around her chair were soaking up this moment, some of them wondering what had brought her to tears.
Christmas lights, festive decorations, and traditions all have her imprint on them. Most of the things I love about Christmas bring me back to her. How can I navigate through the season with my grief being amplified by memories of her in every Christmas tradition I have? The sadness I am encountered with over and over again weighs me down and I want to stay tethered to my shabbily decorated house lacking it’s usual Christmas cheer. The pathetic tree still does not have the star on top. The nativity is tucked into a corner. My energy is drained and my willpower to enjoy Christmas does not exist.
I know that in order for me to move forward, to be present with my children in the Christmas festivities, I need to deal with my grief somehow. This quote is from Ann Voskamp, in her book, The Broken Way, “And this is always the choice: pain demands to be felt — or it will demand you feel nothing at all.”
This quote was a wake up call for me. It made me realize I was not feeling. The joy inherent with the season was passing me by because I was not dealing with my emotions. I had a choice, I could let the Christmas season come and go, not participating, being sad, and running from my emotions, or I could unlock the box of pain I have hidden in my soul, walk through the pain, and start living again. I chose the latter. I didn’t know how to do this, but I set aside some time for myself. One cold morning I put on my hiking boots, carried a packed lunch, a thermos of coffee, a chair, my journal, and a blanket. I hid in nature alone and opened up my heart. I knew it was time for me to start living with my heart involved, not living with a heart locked away in grief.
Feel the Pain
I feel the hurt of her death so deeply, I’m scared to touch it. I actually don’t know how to touch it, how to go that deep. It is easy to keep emotions locked in a box down in your soul, but when it is time, how do you unlock the box and let it out? Where do you begin? My beginning was simple once it came to me. I started by thinking about things that make me sad, that’s it. A simple beginning, I thought about sad things in the whole of my life, just not around my mom. I thought about recent losses I had endured, with losing a job I had loved, and friends who had recently moved. I let that transition into feeling the loss of her. I thought about what I missed about her. I let myself feel the sadness. I talked to her out loud. I remembered her, and I let myself feel deeply sad. I was sitting in the woods, with no timetable, no one’s expectations to meet, just me, my thoughts, and nature.
Walk through the pain
Sitting and thinking after a while shuts me down. My mind starts to wander and I knew I was not going to finish getting in touch with my emotions. I needed to move, so I put on my coat and hat and went for a walk down a trail through barren winter trees. Squirrels were scuttling among the trees and birds were hopping on the ground scattering leaves. I discovered that walking, surrounded by nature, and talking aloud to my mom, brought out a myriad of other emotions that I needed to work through as well, such as regret and anger. Physically moving forward, working my muscles, keeping both my mind and body active, created a tactile experience and helped me delve deeper into the that locked box of emotions. I was reaching emotions I have buried deeper than the rest. As I walked, and the scenery around me was changing, and it brought to mind different things I need to explore. It was almost as if the walking stirred up stagnant thoughts, helping my brain connect to buried emotions.
Sit with the pain
I got to a stream with a big cliff face on the other side. I sat among the trees and cried from my soul, deep wails giving a voice to my emotions. I had brought all of these emotions to the surface. It was time to feel each of them, every messy, sad, hurting, stinging feeling. I dwelt on them, purged them from me by crying, yelling, throwing rocks and stomping around. I felt the strength in my hand permeate to my heart as I threw the rocks, one by one, crashing them against the rock wall with a satisfying crack. I felt the anger be beaten down into the earth as I stomped my feet and jarred my bones with the impact. I breathed the emotions into my soul and released them out into the air, to dissipate into the atmosphere.
Look through the pain
When I walked back to my chair in the woods, I snuggled up with my blanket, and scrolled through photos of my mom. For the longest time after her death, I could not look at photos of her. It was like torture forcing myself to remember my loss. My husband’s sister did not want to keep her emotions locked away when she lost her father. She looked at photos every day. This piece of advice helped me tremendously and helps me feel her presence throughout my day as I see a photo of her now.
After I initially felt the pain and walked through the pain, further probing deeper into the pain, after I purged the pain, I dove into the photos. This brought up different emotions for me, emotions of gratitude, laughter, and good memories. I had walked up a steep hill to get back to my starting point on the trail. Enduring the effort after such an emotional release, made me realize the pain is still present. My anger is still holding hands with my sadness. But I had walked through it, opening myself up to the feelings. I was ready to feel gratitude, thankfulness, and appreciation for my mom. As I looked through the photos, tears rolled down my cheeks, but it uplifted my soul. I could still feel the sadness, it was sitting on my shoulder like a pet bird, watching the photos with me. But I felt as if there were slivers of light in my soul as I looked at the photos, warming me from the coldness of the pain.
Break up with the pain.
The box is empty. I have probed the depths of the locked box and set free the emotions I kept trapped there. In my mind, I imagined myself smashing this box into a broken heap of splinters by throwing it against that rocky cliff face and letting the waves of my subconscious carry them away into nothing ness.
Let go of the pain
I can feel that my soul is open. My heart, however, is still broken, bleeding, and now so very raw. Yet it is finally beating again. I can look on all things Christmas, the Christmas lights in town that my mother loved to drive by, a beautiful nativity, and I am filled with gratefulness for all this strong woman meant to me. The sadness still comes. It still washes over me in waves so strong I cannot breathe, it still settles in my chest, feeling like a physical weight I cannot move, but I am feeling again. I am feeling the wonders of the season, the joy in people’s faces, the gratefulness in my heart, and love. I’m feeling love from my family and from my mom. I no longer have a locked box to hide my emotions from me. I’m ready for hot chocolate and Bing Crosby Christmas music. Maybe I will even put the star on top of the tree.
