Six ways to cope with a death at Christmas.
On a December 22, I signed the paperwork to remove my mother from life support systems.
We buried her December 26.
That was the worst Christmas of my entire life.
I’ve never felt the same way about the holiday since.
Oh, yes, I know it celebrates the Savior’s birth. I know it’s a festive time of gaiety, lights, parties and gifts.
Christmas carols like Handel‘s Messiah and other musical treats, bless my soul. I sing in the choir and play in a woodwind quintet.
I adore writing and receiving Christmas letters.
But I hate how I feel this time of year. Rejoicing makes me feel guilty. I remember Mom, and I feel sad.
My father never recovered, emotionally, from my mother’s sudden collapse while teeing off at the golf course. He had a crisis at Christmas for the next (and last) seven years of his life.
I spent too many “holiday seasons” discussing end of life issues with hollow doctor’s voices over the phone. Nurses called with requests for DNRs while I watched the lights flicker on the tree and listened to the rum-pa-pa-pum of the drummer boy.
Excruciating.
The children
My children were in elementary school when my mother died. I had a little girl who loved the idea of nutcrackers and baking Christmas cookies. She savored the excitement of holiday parties and wondering about mysterious packages. She begged to celebrate the season with every gusto in her body.
And my body? A dragging weighty horror that I had to relive this season one more time without my mother.
Intellectually, I understood. This was my daughter’s only childhood. Was it fair to her that for me every activity bore the shadow of my missing mother?
Of course not.
But it was just. so. hard.
How to get through a death at Christmas
1. Recognize how emotionally vulnerable you are and enlist help.
My wonderful, logical husband didn’t understand how difficult everything about Christmas had become for me until I told him, oh, about year eight. Once he knew, he could help me. But if all I did was moan about how I hated Christmas, I didn’t provide him with any insight for him to ease my grief. My prayer partner, too, began praying with me starting in November!
2. Focus on things you CAN do with joy.
I love to write and receive Christmas cards and letters. This I could do with joy and I focused there. I also could bake cookies with my daughter and create the annual pun, the Yule log, to serve on Christmas Eve. Of course I can sing in the choir and, sometimes, lose myself in that long ago joy of understanding, for the first time, how crucial the babe in the manger is for our salvation.
3. Consider who else is involved.
I lost a mother, but so did my brothers. My children lost a grandmother and my poor father . . . I needed to think of ways to make “the season” better for them. My children could acknowledge the loss of Grammy, but did they deserve a mother who wouldn’t buy presents, wouldn’t cook a meal, wouldn’t attend a band concert, wouldn’t play Handel’s Messiah and who answered every breathless request with “no?” I needed to be selfless for their sake, but I also needed to mourn.
4. Remember to grieve.
I remember my mother every December 22. When I set out her nutcrackers, I think of her. Hanging the tree ornaments she purchased from all over the world, is an opportunity to cry. I tell stories about her, funny stories about her foibles, and sometimes we even remember to toast her at Christmas dinner.
5. Invent new traditions.
I didn’t realize we had done this until my daughter-in-law asked “Where are you going for Christmas this year?” We started traveling the Christmas after my father died, not because of his death but because that was the only time our college students were guaranteed available. Or so I thought. In reality, maybe I was fleeing, but was that such a bad thing the first couple years?
6. Celebrate the true meaning of Christmas.
It’s about Jesus, God with us, not every other Americanized holiday tradition. We still are very busy at Christmas, but if I take my aching heart to the babe in the manger, I can put December 22 and 26 into perspective.
Jesus is the reason for the season, but I still miss my mother.
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Michelle, I know exactly how you feel. My father died on Christmas day from brain cancer when I was 17. It was a long time before I could even begin to “celebrate” Christmas, although on the outside it seemed as though everything was fine. Jesus IS the reason for the season, and I will continue to miss my dad as always.. May God bless us both this season.
I was just talking with Gerry about a terrible tragedy that’s just happened where he lives. He actually said, “How would you ever be able to celebrate Christmas again?” Now I know. xox
You do the best you can. You don’t want everyone else to be miserable, so you have to rise above your pain and put one foot in front of the other.
Sometimes it takes a number of years to acknowledge and articulate grief and need. Thank you for sharing so others can get a running start.
That’s my hope, Cherry, to help those feeling down but also their loved ones. The kids don’t realize the why and spouses may not put it together.
I’m a big grump around Xmas. I didn’t realize why until, like you, a few years ago I associated my feelings with the loss of mom. I take no joy in the decorations and can hardly wait to take them down. The last couple of years we have been getting away ourselves which has helped. But the kids still dread being around me for a couple of days. 🙁
I will never forget returning from the funeral and having Dad wave his arms. “Make Christmas go away.” I felt numb and went right to work.
Make Christmas go away.
I’ve been wondering, Michelle, does your last name rhyme with Yule or not?
My dad died on Dec. 28, 2004. My mom, who had been the one in the family to make Christmas extra fun, stopped doing her usual Christmas stuff after that. She died in June of 2010.
Since Mom died, my brother, sister-in-law, & niece have distanced themselves from us, although they only live a couple miles away. They are the only “extended family” we ever see (no other siblings for me, & hubby’s an only child), & now we aren’t even seeing them. I feel like I’ve lost my family of birth. That really hurts, especially because it is their choice.
But I am so blessed that the family Lee & I have together – 2 grown daughters & grandson, all living with us – has grown closer. And we are blessed to have a loving church family.
So I focus on who I do have in my life, & try to make them happy. Having a sweet, adorable 2-year old grandson sure helps.
Yes, it rhymes with yule. My mother-in-law’s name was Mary and she had a lot of fun at Christmas time.
Very sorry about your family situation but glad you can forge new traditions and joy with your grandson. There are so many minefields with Christmas, it’s good to recognize what they are so you can step, carefully, around them. Sure takes a lot of emotional energy, however! Merry Christmas.
My mother died on Dec. 26 and I remember how odd it seemed while riding home from the hospital that night and seeing all the Christmas lights and it seemed as if they were faded out, not so bright and colorful as usual. My dad also died in December many years before my mom died. And my father-in-law died right before Christmas and we had to wait until after the holiday to have his funeral. I was very concerned that no one would come to the funeral because who wants to do that during their special vacation time? I felt like a beggar calling some people to ask if they might arrange to come to his funeral. But, the hope of heaven overpowers the gloom of death that can seemingly overtake the celebration of new life at Chrstmas. Seeing Baby Jesus lying in the manger at the front of the church alongside my mother’s casket brought great comfort to me at that time. Hearing the pastor speak about Anna in the Bible with Baby Jesus and being compared with my mom since her first name was Annie and she was the same age as Anna was such a comforting message. I don’t know, can’t imagine, how I would feel without that Christian comfort. So for me, the message of new life resonates and overcomes the power of death to bear down on a person’s joy at Christmas. Keep the focus on Jesus and all the promises we have through His life and death on the cross and resurrection from the dead. May the celebration go on and on year after year!
Beautifully said, Janice. Thank you and blessings to you this year, sister in so many ways.
Michelle, you always manage to touch me with these writings. I read it when you first posted it and no one had made a comment. I didn’t want to be the first. You know how much I miss my dad. This will be my 4th Christmas without him. He died June 11th-right before Father’s Day and I had already bought his card. I am an introvert for the most part but that first Thanksgiving I called all my friends, told them I was cooking and I NEEDED them like I never had before. They came and I survived. We all deal with our grief in different ways. Thank you for sharing how you have dealt with it. It somehow makes me smile to think of you. Look at my table set with a Christmas cloth and dishes and imagine my dad holding court.
I’m so impressed, Kim, that you recognized your vulnerability that first holiday season and did something about it. That’s the key–along with consciously taking time to grieve. It just makes “it all” more emotionally manageable. Blessings to you as always.
We did something very different for the next Christmas after my mother’s passing. We went to our cousin’s big family gathering instead of having our usual small family gathering which would have been so noticably missing my mother’s presence. With all the activity and hub-bub going on at our cousin’s we were engaged in other family traditions, including a dog in the mix, people of all ages and stages, people coming in late from far distances, a crazy gift swap where you could take a gift someone else received if you liked it better and give them your gift. and even jalapeno peppers in the deviled eggs (yum). I suppose, like what Kim did, you could call this replacement therapy.
Thank you so much Michelle for sharing your heart. Your candor and broken heart resonate with my emotions after my father died. So painful. My daughter started flipping photos of my father over. When I asked her why she told me, Grandpa makes you sad. Indeed, those photos of my dad did make me sad. It is difficult to want to remember while at the time struggling with such deep sorrow. I so appreciate your vulnerability…it has blessed me. Love to you, Dawn
Grief hits in such strange ways, and how interesting your young daughter picked up on what was making you so sad and had a remedy.
I remember after my mom died I didn’t want to see the sun go down because each new day was a day she was not in the world. This Christmas has felt almost normal–cheerier, less weighed down–but she died 19 years ago. Which is also hard to believe. Blessings to you, Dawn.
Oh, Michelle–your feeling of not wanting to see the sun go down makes me think of how gutted I was on the first new year’s eve after my mother died. I couldn’t bear to enter a new year without her, to leave the last year we shared. I find it strange and comforting how individual grief is, and yet how often those feelings are shared. One of my dear high school friends just suddenly lost her husband, and as I try to find the words to help her and her kids feel less alone, I call on that truth.
So very true, Beth, in both of these responses. We grieve alone, even as we grieve with others, and mourning is different for each person. Some of us need to talk about it, others go internal–but as long as we’re working through the pain, we’re making progress (of a sort).
I’ve come to see that “closure” is a myth and that for many of us, we focus on ending the grief rather than riding it. It’s astonishing to me how much of emotional life is like body surfing (!). You have a choice, to submit to the wave and ride it in, or fight with it and often get smacked to the sand. Going through the pain, living with it, walking around it, trying to fit that hole into a new life is all part of coming to accept change has happened.
It’s really hard. It hurts, and yet it is the only way to come to a place where life looks out from the new person we are–changed because of the loss–into the new and hopefully more sensitive person we are in the future.
I cry a lot easier now. I’m far more sympathetic and I think I love better because my parents are gone.
And even as I type, tears prickle. I’ll always miss. I’ll always love them, but I’m determined to be thankful for the person they gave me the freedom to be–and by so doing, enable me to reach out and love those who hurt, especially at Christmas.
Blessings to you, Beth.
I came back to read this again this Christmas. Two years since you wrote it! It is still good advice. Merry Christmas sweet friend.
Thank you, Michelle. As you might know, my sister Nan died two weeks ago–my younger sister. The Nan of the Jan&Nan. While it’s been rough, I’m choosing to focus on the life around me, ahead of me–and God’s purpose in all of that. Nan was the one who would bring the latest box game or card game…as well as the newest, greatest DVD to watch. She loved Jesus and knew she would be meeting him. So I bought box games for gifts this year and we’re watching movies–such as White Christmas, which she sent to my daughter Bethany one year when she just casually mentioned it was her favorite. Bam! There it was in the mail a few days later. That was Nan–a gift to us and the rest of the world. And that’s what I hope to be.
Im very sorry, Janet, and yes, I had seen your post. What a great idea to remember her by doing the things she loved best and how she used them to brighten everyone’s life as a show of love. Great idea. Maybe that’s why my family traveled all those Christmases–my parents were big travellers.
One thing that has always helped me in the years since, is to remember to cry if I feel like it. Tears honor the importance of the relationship and make you feel better. It is a time of mourning and reflection and I rejoice with you all that you’ll see Nan again in Paradise. Blessings.
Michelle, I can’t imagine. I still have my mother and dad. I can only imagine how lonely life would feel without my mother. I don’t see her all the time, but I know she’s there. I do miss my grandparents terribly, but they didn’t pass away on a holiday … so I don’t have that linked. We have received some bad health news for a family member just yesterday … but I pray the problem isn’t terminal. At least not for a long time. We’ll see. Anyway, I’m saying a prayer for you right now, for this season … that God will hug you and give you peace this season … feel your father’s and mother’s love over you. God bless.
Ah, Shelli, thank you. My mom died 21 years ago this Christmas and we’ve adapted, it’s not anywhere near as bad as it was even when this post was written. My prayer partner has been a total blessing–checking in with me at the start of December and throughout the month. Sharing my pain with her all those years ago has helped a great deal–she prays for me starting around Thanksgiving. It’s just hard, sometimes, to be cheerful when your heart is breaking–as I’m sure you can known or imagine. Blessings to you and thanks for the prayer.
Hi, Michelle, I just lost a very dear friend, and lost my Mom who was my best friend, just two days before Mother’s Day, (in 1988). This Christmas also finds three (3!) of my loved ones facing possible death unless God allows healing. If I think too much about them … and my Mom, even today, it can be overwhelming. On a brighter note … thank you for writing! Also, thank you for retaining this post and others. I am a “newbie,” just finding out about YOU! Keep up the good work.
I’m so sorry for your loss and pray for peace as you go through such a hard season. So many this year are struggling and the stories are heartbreaking. Be kind to yourself and your loved ones; hold them close.
As I know you’ve already discovered, grief is like a sine wave that comes and goes, often showing up at the most unexpected moments. The pain eases with time, of course, but still stabs with longing to hear that voice, see that face one more time. Blessings to you and thanks for writing.
Thank you for this. I lost both of my parents at Christmastime, two years apart. It took the heart out of Christmas for me. In the last two years, (15 yrs later) we lost three of our beloved dogs over two Christmases, and that pretty much closed the deal. But, interestingly, while I am gutted at this time of year, my partner doesn’t seem to associate Christmas with those days of dog-chemo, sudden death, grief, and the change that was so profound in our home without children. So another lesson I have learned is that each person is different (surprise!). And while I would be just as happy letting the holiday slide by unnoticed, he loves the memory of when I used to love it. Your essay will help me find some of those moments, I hope.
Michelle, I feel your pain. Holidays can be very painful to a lot of us. Your Mom was the first person that I felt the painful loss of. I felt my heart aching for the loss of her. My heart ached and I cried many nights the loss of her in my life. My Mom died on November 18th and my Dad November 19th 5 years before. My
precious sister shared her last Christmass with us a year after my Mom died. Some find the Christmas holidays unbearable. Some take their own life’s. Christ has gotten me through the pain and filled my heart with his peace and joy. Jesus can take our pain and fill us with peace and joy. We just have to reach out and ask. May God richly bless all of our broken hearts ♥️ With peace,joy and love at this Christmas season. Merry Christmas.
xoxo. Yes.
I lost my dad two years ago on Dec 20th and just lost my mom on Christmas Day. Her funeral was today. I can’t stop crying. My mom wanted to go be with my dad for Christmas and I should be happy she’s with him and that she will no longer suffer but I miss her so much. Do you ever get over the feeling of wanting to go be with your mom? She was my best friend. Even though I have a very supportive husband, 2 great adult children and lots of friends I feel so alone. I’m 55 and feel like a child wanting her mommy.
I’m so sorry about the loss of your parents, Donna, and no, I don’t think we ever really feel old enough to lose our parents.
I mourned my mother for a very long time–perhaps because her death was sudden and unexpected (we had buried her 103 year-old father the year before; we expected Mom to be around a long time).
You’re in the very real and hardest part of grieving–you should be crying your eyes out. There will be few times in life that will hurt as much as this one right now.
I hope you saw the post I wrote on Tuesday and that it can help, too: http://www.michelleule.com/2017/12/26/perspective-on-grief/
Blessings to you and your family.
Thanks so much Michelle. I will read through more of your site bit by bit. I did a search on losing a loved one at Christmas and when I saw your first name I knew it was a sign that this was the right place as my daughter’s name is Michelle. God Bless you for helping all the people that need you during this difficult time in their lives.