I never understood how people could be sad around the holidays. Christmas, for me, has always been a time of light and joy and celebration. I have always been the type to put up my tree the day after Thanksgiving, and I decorate every inch of my house with garlands and figurines and miniature Christmas trees. It has always been my favorite time of year, where the world seems like a brighter, more loving place. But this year, there is darkness.
My sweet mom passed away last January. Last Christmas was already difficult, because I knew it would be her last. This year is harder. I haven't decorated my tree, although it did get put up. I haven't made a single batch of Christmas cookies. There are no garlands, no nativity scene or Christmas village. Christmas was so intertwined with my mother, that it is impossible to celebrate Christmas while grieving her. As a child, my mom made Christmas so special. She decorated the entire house, we made cookies together, we went out to see Christmas lights, we played in the snow. We would sing carols by candlelight. We would cook and bake for hours while The Rat Pack crooned their Christmas carols out of the record player. Christmas meant peace. It meant safety and love and joy.
When a parent or loved one dies, they leave a hole behind. The day my mom died, I felt as though a piece of my soul was ripped out. It was physical, mental, and emotional pain all at once. If you have lost a loved one, you probably understand that feeling completely. This Christmas, instead of light and joy and love, I feel the hole where my Mama used to be. I feel sadness. This is my first Christmas without her in my life. These past 32 years, she was a constant. She was always there. And now suddenly, she isn't.
This year, Christmas means darkness. It is a reminder of the time shortly before my mom passed away, when she was suffering so greatly. It is a reminder that she isn't here with me anymore. It is a reminder that she won't be sending gifts for my kids to open over Skype. There will be no phone call from her on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. There will be no phone call at midnight on January 1st to wish me a happy new year. I can't call her to ask for the recipe for her special Christmas cookies. I can't send her a Christmas gift. She won't be sending me a box of my favorite chocolates. She is gone.
Seeing the whole world light up with Christmas lights and holiday tunes is jarring. It so conflicts with the sadness and pain that is within my heart. I can't listen to the radio, I can't watch Christmas movies. It hurts too much.
I have come to the realization that it is OK to not be OK. This is how Christmas is for me this year, and that is OK. I am still grieving the loss of my mother, of course it isn't going to be the way that it used to be. Perhaps next year will be better, and perhaps it won't. And that is OK too. There is no timeline for grief. I am accepting the way that I feel right now, acknowledging those feelings, and giving myself all the grace (and ice cream) I need.
If you are also experiencing a difficult holiday season, please know that you are not alone. Remind yourself that it is OK to feel the way that you feel in this moment, and that it won't last forever. Whether this is your first holiday without your loved one, or your 50th, I am sending you all of my love. Whether you are going through grief, depression, or something else, you are NOT alone. I am always here to talk, even if we don't know each other yet.
