{"id":1221,"date":"2025-11-29T13:01:35","date_gmt":"2025-11-29T19:01:35","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.forevermissed.com\/blog\/?p=1221"},"modified":"2026-03-31T03:51:35","modified_gmt":"2026-03-31T08:51:35","slug":"grief-and-the-holidays-honest-reflection","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.forevermissed.com\/blog\/grief-and-the-holidays-honest-reflection\/","title":{"rendered":"Grief during the holidays: ‘Tis the Season to Be Sad, Confused, Exhausted and Angry – Oops – I Mean Jolly"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Grief during the holidays can make every tradition feel heavy and every gathering bittersweet. This is my story.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Riding the Rollercoaster of the Holiday Season<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Welcome once again to the holiday season. I apologize for not writing before Thanksgiving. In the midst of all this cheer, I thought of myself hanging on the meat hook of the holidays. Here’s my run – Thanksgiving. My husband’s birthday is December 11th, Chanukah, Gwendy’s Birthday is Dec. 20th, Christmas, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. My birthday and my wedding anniversary are Feb. 3rd (my husband married me for my birthday present) and finally – Valentine’s Day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Finding Gratitude Amid the Pain<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Thanksgiving. Am I thankful? Definitely. I am thankful for little things like a cosy blanket and big things like having a smart, healthy and beautiful granddaughter. Gwendy’s birthday is a good day When my daughter was pregnant I didn’t know if I could love this new person. I can and I do. I love being a grandmother, love that she looks at my husband’s picture and says, “There’s grandpa!” She may have never met him when he was alive but she knows all about him – and I have this strange feeling she’s seen him more that once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Preparing for Holidays With Both Joy and Grief<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Grief during the holidays. Holidays? I’m working on it. I have so many presents in my hallway it looks like a toy store. I’m going to have to choose which ones to bring to Marblehead near Boston which is where my daughter and granddaughter live. I couldn’t possibly carry everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Trying New Traditions, Avoiding Old Wounds<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I’m going out on my husband’s birthday. Never did that before. I’m spending New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day with my daughter and granddaughter. It’s the first year I’ve been willing to do that. I did go out with a friend once – wasn’t very happy. My birthday. We worked that one out. We sing “Unhappy Birthday to You” and I laugh but no one is allowed to mention it’s my wedding anniversary. I love that I have a wedding anniversary but I can’t handle spending that wonderful day without my husband. My daughter tried singing, “Unhappy anniversary to you.” but I stopped her. I can laugh about having an unhappy birthday – and actually have a happy one. Can’t laugh about having an unhappy wedding anniversary. I miss my husband too much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Five and a Half Years Later: Doing More, Feeling More<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

This is what is going on now after almost five and half years. Things are different. I am doing more and enjoying more. I am also having to accept that around these dates everything falls apart. I’m going out – I’m cleaning up – I’m taking care of projects – but I’m also laying in bed watching lousy TV and eating ice cream to numb out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The Everyday Confusion of Grief-Brain<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

In between the good times I’m a mess. I couldn’t find my purse this morning – it was on the door knob where I had put it. I thought Dec. 26th was a Monday – I think it’s a Saturday. Oh – I just looked at the calendar – I think I’m leaving on Tuesday the 16th – the 16th is Wednesday. As if to prove my point, I just talked to my daughter. This is an edit. The 16th is Tuesday not Wednesday. And then she was quick to say – not TODAY. I actually knew that one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Trying to Function While Carrying Heartbreak<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I’ve been meaning to write a blog post for days. I got a stupid taxi driver who was taking me to the wrong address – I told him he needed taxi driver lessons – he laughed. I cursed him out. Unnecessary – maybe. There are lots of times now when I feel like a person. Times like that mixed in with times as I am going to meet someone I say, “Please let me look and sound like a person.” There are things I would like to do that I’m not – but I finally at the age of 63 feel that what I do is enough – who I am is enough. If I do more – okay and If I don’t – okay. When I’m better behaved – okay. If I’m not – okay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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A Lesson in Misguided Comfort<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I’m meeting with someone who thinks she is my friend to tell her if she can’t be sensitive to who I am – and respectful of who I am – I can’t be friends with her anymore. I’ll call her D. Why did I feel punched in the throat? R told us both a long time friend had been killed in a car accident. R was willing to be vulnerable and take the risk of saying how sad she was. D responded, “Something good has come out of his death because you are reconnecting with people.” I couldn’t believe it. In front of me – the radical griever. I rounded on D and probably shouted, “Never tell a grieving person that something good has come out of the death of someone they love.” D said she was providing “comfort”.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

First of all – there is not comfort.  <\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Second of all, comfort is never given by someone thinking the most painful thing that has ever happened to you is good – especially when in R’s case it had only happened a couple of days ago. I asked D how she would feel if her phone rang and she found out her son was dead.  What would be the good in that?  Her eyes teared up and she said, “That’s hurtful.”  I said, “It’s meant to be. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I have thousands of people who tell me how hurtful it is when people say things like you just said.  They won’t tell you that – but I will.”  I was so angry I couldn’t sit next to her.  D. waited a while and then said – “I can’t help loving you.”  Blech.  R said I shouldn’t feel bad about my reaction.  I don’t and I thought perhaps D said she couldn’t help loving me because she thinks I’m always angry.  I sent her an e-mail saying that I have been out with a lot of people this week and had good times with all.  Not angry once. (Of course all my other friends are my friends because they understand about the not jolly part.)  I even sent her the Henri Nouwen quote:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Hurtful Comment<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I’m meeting with someone who thinks she is my friend to tell her if she can’t be sensitive to who I am \u2013 and respectful of who I am \u2013 I can’t be friends with her anymore. I’ll call her D.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why did I feel punched in the throat? R told us both a long-time friend had been killed in a car accident. R was willing to be vulnerable and take the risk of saying how sad she was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

D responded, “Something good has come out of his death because you are reconnecting with people.” I couldn’t believe it. In front of me \u2013 the radical griever \u2013 she said that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I rounded on D and probably shouted, “Never tell a grieving person that something good has come out of the death of someone they love.” D said she was providing “comfort.”
First of all \u2013 there is not comfort. Second of all, comfort is never given by someone thinking the most painful thing that has ever happened to you is good \u2013 especially when in R’s case it had only happened a couple of days ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Confrontation and Aftermath<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I asked D how she would feel if her phone rang and she found out her son was dead. What would be the good in that? Her eyes teared up and she said, “That’s hurtful.” I said, “It’s meant to be. I have thousands of people who tell me how hurtful it is when people say things like you just said. They won’t tell you that \u2013 but I will.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was so angry I couldn’t sit next to her. D waited a while and then said, “I can’t help loving you.” Blech. R said I shouldn’t feel bad about my reaction. I don’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps D said she couldn’t help loving me because she thinks I’m always angry. I sent her an e-mail saying that I have been out with a lot of people this week and had good times with all. Not angry once. (Of course all my other friends are my friends because they understand about the not jolly part.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Quote That Says What She Cannot Understand<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

I even sent her the Henri Nouwen quote:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Setting Boundaries to Protect Your Heart<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I’m not sure why I’m ranting about this. Maybe because I know similar things have happened to you. Maybe because I am still so hurt by it. I need people to understand that grief goes on forever. I am sad, confused, exhausted and angry. I’m also happy, content, grateful and silly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Seeing Grief Reflected Everywhere<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I admit to watching true crime stories on television. And I am aware of the ways my grief has shifted over the years. It doesn’t stop the shrieking. Maybe this is a holiday season to be simultaneously miserable and jolly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Grief during the holidays<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

I wish for you that in the midst of the genuine – real – normal – tumultuous pain that is grief – you also – when you are ready – find time for love – for sharing – for laughter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A Final Question for Your One Wild and Precious Life<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

xo<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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