Holidays. Everyone smiling while eating and drinking way too much. Families traveling long distances to get a hug. Love. Hope. Happiness. Togetherness. That’s the All-American ideal. How lovely it would be if everyone in the world could experience a perfect holiday just once. The reality is that there is no such thing as a perfect holiday or a perfect anything else for that matter. This is especially true when grief is one’s constant companion.
My first widowed holiday was not explainable to anyone else. The firsts are as unique as snowflakes. Each one has its own shape and beauty. It’s up to each individual to make the firsts liveable. That’s a tall order.
In December 2020, I was one lost soul. It had been nine months since becoming a widow and I’d managed to settle into a new home with one little dog. The newness of everything left me in a fog most days, while the slightest bump in the road could send me into tizzy.
Those early days, sleep was my only comfort. I prayed for angels to surround me each evening as the sun set, and then, I was out like a light. It mattered not that the clock said 5:30 pm. Suffering such a shock, my brain needed time to heal. Sleep cloaked the intense pain that comes with losing a husband.
That first Christmas, it wasn’t necessary to drag out all the decorations. I had no family that would be joining me for the big dinner I wouldn’t be preparing. All the decorations I’d used for years belonged to the bigger home in which I no longer lived. The thought of finding new spots for red and green was too overwhelming. That year, I chose to decorate with little poinsettias. That was the best I could do.
While preparing for this major milestone, each month I’d ordered a Christmas gift for myself. When they arrived, I’d wrap the unopened packages with monthly notes to myself. On Christmas Eve, I opened each one and read words reflecting a slow and steady healing. Oliver and I made it through that first holiday with the help of my one true friend, Miss Firecracker. It was her first Christmas alone, as well. Together, we made it through.
As you begin the holiday season, evaluate your traditions. Keep the ones that comfort you and ignore the ones that don’t. If you need company, invite people. If you need solitude, close the curtains and take a break. Only you know what will feel right.
During the sadness of that first year, one thing I could count on for comfort was my written words. If you want to know more about my first year as a widow, look back at my archives starting September, 2020. Firsts are messy. Firsts are tear-filled baskets of emotions. Just remember, they only happen once and that is a true blessing.
Whatever you do today, get out a calendar and start planning how you will survive December. Look for events that will provide comfort. It’s okay to boycott the holidays if they are too painful. Only you will know what feels just right. Personally, I’ve discoverd hot chocolate makes everything so much better.
More tomorrow.
