I think that Christmas has snuck up on everyone this year. The weather was so mild, Thanksgiving was very late with only three and a half weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas. And so here we are, Christmas is only two and a half weeks away...incredible!
When I think about the holidays and people we miss because they have left us, I am realizing more and more, each year, that every situation is so different, and it is different for two main reasons. Each person lost to suicide was unique and special, and played a specific role in our lives. And, each of us is very different, and were at different places in our lives when we were thrown into this turn of events of learning to live with suicide loss.
So our heartache is intense on an equal level for equal reasons, but the resolution is so different for everyone.
When I lost my son, I was already in my late fifties, and had been recently divorced. My holidays were becoming quieter and more nostalgic already. No more major trips for toy shopping, no more back to back turkey dinners for my family and my husband's family. No more juggling going to my mother-in-law's or sister-in-law's for Christmas Eve and then my sister's for Christmas Day.
So, were my son still here, my holidays would be quieter and feel different anyway. I am trying to
remember that. Granted, losing my son takes all of this a step further, and while each year is easier than the last, I have made my peace with the fact that there will always be limit to my anticipation for Christmas. To put it simply, jolly is just not part of my Christmas vocabulary.
In some ways, this makes me feel sad, or almost guilty, but as they say..."it is what it is". I do my best, and I will enjoy most parts of the upcoming weeks. I tend to steer clear of Christmas music and certain movies, and I avoid the toy stores. I have learned to try to assess a situation ahead of time, and figure out where the land-mines might be. And then I do my "count my blessings' routine, and find my joy in that.
I guess what I am trying to say here is that I am thinking of those who don't have the same options. I can't imagine what it would be like to get through a first Christmas after losing your husband. and have to still be there for your young children, or to be a newly-wed and suddenly have lost a brother or parent, and your mate is at a loss to console you. For this exact moment, I am actually trying to remember what I did the first Christmas...I honestly can't. Partly, this will be my fourth holiday without Erik, and some of the past ones are starting to blur together. Last year seems the clearest to me, and I was blessed to be with my son and grandchildren, and a new man in my life. We made turkey dinner and presents were fun. I was able to get some of the old sparkle back. But it takes a long time.
One good thing is that there seems to be a lot of recognition that in general, everyone doesn't get to have a Norman Rockwell Christmas. People have loss, people are fighting illnesses or have lost jobs, and the joy of the season seems to sometimes be a cruel reminder of things that are not joyous.
So what do we suicide survivors do about this? We do what we always do...we survive, and as time goes on, we start to thrive again. For those who this Christmas is one of the firsts, my heart and prayers go with you. Do your best. Cry but try to find moments to share with others to find at least a little peace and quiet happiness. Do not try to be brave...do what you need to do for yourself, your family and friends will understand. Cling tightly to where ever you find love, be it your Faith, your family, friends, or a place of comfort - your home, a place of volunteer work, or a getaway in the country. You have my personal exemption from having to do anything...if the stores drive you crazy, and you leave in tears, stay out of them. Go to the drugstore and get gift cards for everyone. If you used to bake cookies, go to the bakery.
Take care of yourself, and get good sleep. Try to get out to a friend's or a coffee shop. Do something you never thought you would do...like adopt a pet, (or try writing). If you go to counseling or support groups, go more often. Or, in the end, just keep breathing, get through these extra hard days, so you can get back to a slightly easier road to recovery, to start a new year, to build back up and think forward more often than back.
Do what you gotta do, it is what it is, and know that some day, you will find peace and joy again, and it won't necessarily be Christmas.
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