By Victoria L. Mitchell, RN, LCSW, Agape Counseling, Ltd.
The holiday season is behind us. The tinsel and twinkling lights, music and holiday feasts, seasonal joy and laughter are things of the past. But what if we lost a loved one this past year? Did the holidays simply bring tears that burdened our hearts unceasingly? Did we prepare our hearts for the gaping holes of emptiness, but the seemingly little things — like the emptiness of Mom’s chair, Grandma’s absent walker, the scent of perfume, the roughness of corduroy against a cheek, the taste of an anise cookie — seem to break us?
As much as Hallmark would have us think only happy holiday thoughts, there is human pain that bright lights won’t erase. Every day I work with clients at different stages of healing. What can we do to prepare for what we feel totally unprepared for?
The first thing we must do is honor our pain. If we had not loved someone deeply, we would not feel so sad and lost. The only way to shield our hearts from grief is not to connect with other human beings. Stay connected to those around you now. Be with people you love. Surround yourself with their comfort. Talk about your loved one. One of the first assignments I give a client is to find the balance between going on with life and taking time to grieve. It is helpful to actually set aside grief time – more at first, less as time goes on. Take a half hour one or two times a day to let the feeling wash over you. Cry, pray, yell — whatever is there to feel. Once the time is over, get up and tackle a challenge. This may be a whole day of activity or as small a victory as getting in the shower.
It is also helpful to journal these thoughts. Sometimes it’s just notes, but other times maybe a letter to your loved one. All the “if onlys”, and “what ifs” need to be put somewhere other than the dark shadows of our heart where regret and misery like to grow. No matter how you said your good bye, or how sweet your last conversation was, none of us is perfect. If we had only known…but we didn’t. We were just living our life with that blessed illusion that things will go just as we planned, that we’ll all still be here tomorrow.
The next step is to recognize there is a process to healing. We heal, but our life will never be exactly the same again. What we do with that reality dictates our definition of healing. We will get better, feel joy again, laugh again, love again, but no matter how many years go by, a song, a smell, a thought will bring back the grief, hitting the back of our knees and we lose balance. This is of shorter duration, but intense just the same. My dad died 30 years ago, but, on Christmas Eve, something about the tree keys into the memory of him throwing handfuls of icicles on the tree and mom scolding him every year to be neater. A vulnerable spot in my heart is hit, and tears rush to my eyes. I loved my dad. It validates he is still a part of me.
Another means of honoring our relative or friend is to memorialize their life, and the connection they have to your own. Mitch Albom writes in The Five People You Meet in Heaven, “Lost love is still love…It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken, another heightens. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it.” Dance with your memories. Donate money to a cause that meant something to your loved one. Plant a tree. Decorate the grave. Create a memorial of pictures in your home.
When our baby was stillborn, one event connected his two small brothers to his memory — releasing balloons with scribbled messages. I remember my Grandma by her recipes that represented so much of our precious time together. For now, I remember my mother with a dried yellow rose from her funeral — in the spring, we will plant a yellow rose bush and a tree, both gifts from my family’s support system.
For this New Year, purchase an ornament for a tree, or a small figurine to honor your heart. Wrap it up special now, and open it next year at Christmas. Every year, there will be a soft moment at Christmas, a moment to hold your memories and reminisce. Our tree has ornaments my grandma brought back from Vail, CO, a snow baby for our son, and this year, we add an angel for Mom. The tree tells the story of our family, children’s ornaments mementos of celebrations and friends, and memories of those no longer with us.
Lastly, but of equal importance, please take care of yourself. Get rest, eat nutritional food, and force yourself to go for walks or other exercise. Stay connected to others. Deal with any feelings you have with God about this loss. Listen to soothing music. When laughter comes, allow it. There are still plenty of tears. On my dad’s, and now my mom’s, headstone, Ecclesiastes 3:1 is engraved, reminding me whenever I visit, “To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” Cherish the seasons of life that included your loved one. Like all of life, this is another journey. And, after all, each of us will someday find our way home.
For more information, please contact Agape Counseling, 309-663-2229. They are a group of Christian counselors, social workers, psychologists, and support staff committed to a therapeutic process that ministers to the whole person. Their Bloomington office is located at 211 N. Veterans Parkway, (next to Krispy Kreme). They also have offices in Peoria and Morton.Visit: www.agapecounselors.net.
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