From Sad to Silly: Christmas Memories Salve Widow’s Pain

By Michele Neff Hernandez –

There is a song on the radio at this time of year, sung by the Carpenters, called “Merry Christmas, Darling.”  The first Christmas after my husband Phil died, hearing this song sent me into fits of tears.  Not the sweet, sad, nostalgic type of tears-these were the hitting my hands on the dashboard or kicking my bed, angry, unreasonable type of tears. 

Every time the song came on, I wanted to scream at the beautiful voice on the radio because the sentiment was so infuriating.  The lyrics proclaim that every day is a holiday with the one you love, so even if you aren’t together on Christmas Eve, no worries, you can be together in your dreams.  At that point, I was way beyond wanting to spend Christmas with Phil in my dreams! What I wanted was to hold him, to feel his warm breath on my cheek, and to sit on the couch, side by side, sipping coffee while the kids opened their gifts on Christmas morning.

Every holiday tradition felt like a chore.  Determined to check off each task on the holiday list, I dutifully put up outdoor lights–crying yet again when I discovered how meticulously Phil had packed away the lights the year before.  The kids and I dragged the tree into the house, but the glittering lights seemed to emphasize my gloominess. 

Opening a storage box, I found old Christmas cards full of cheerful greetings and good wishes.  I sighed out loud as I read each one, thinking of how radically our lives had changed in only 365 days. 

One evening I reached into the bottom of the last plastic bin, and pulled out “Frosty.” Phil was famous in our family for the dance he did when Frosty, who played “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” at the push of a button, made his holiday debut.  Phil’s dance included booty shaking, heel tapping, and all manner of silliness–unfailingly creating throughout the house gales of laughter. 

No one could look at Frosty without giggling, because Phil’s dance was so outrageous.  The kids would even try to get him to perform for their friends; they were always thrilled when he was successfully talked into a crowd-pleasing dance recital. 

Sitting in front of the Frosty box alone, my sorrow surrounded me and filled me with self-pity.  All the things I missed most about my husband were represented by that stupid box. His love of life, his adoration of silliness, his ability to be completely in the moment, and his constant attempts to keep me laughing. My world was so empty and joyless without him. 

While I sat contemplating how awful my life had become since Phil’s death, I absently reached over and pushed Frosty’s button. Even through my tears, I could not suppress the smile that Frosty’s song brought to my face.  It was as if Phil was standing right in front of me, in all his holiday glory, telling me to wipe my tears and accept the joy the holiday season still offered. 

Spontaneously I recreated my husband’s holiday jig–that night, Phil and I danced together, right in the middle of the kitchen.  I could see his big smile and feel the warmth of his love with every note that the silly toy snowman warbled.  Plopping down in my seat at the end of the song–breathless and a little surprised–I felt a glimmer of joy for the first time in months.

The next time “Merry Christmas, Darling” came on the radio, I knew I needed to make peace with my inner Scrooge. As the opening chords played, I sat quietly and really listened.  This time I heard a new message:  Phil and I can no longer physically share the same couch on Christmas morning, but the memory of the many precious moments we shared over the years is mine forever. 

In the years since his death, I have come to realize that I can have Christmas with Phil in my dreams for the rest of my life.  There are still days when my heart aches with the need to feel his touch, and I often find the holidays to be bittersweet. Nonetheless, whenever I feel my despair growing, I counter it with a holiday jig and the love of the man who can still make me smile. 

Reach Michele Neff Hernandez at widowsbond@sbcglobal.net

It’s OK to Laugh… and Other Hints for the Holidays

By Tom Zuba –

My 18-month-old daughter Erin died suddenly on July 18, 1990.  Had she lived, we’d be preparing for her 20^th birthday this January 2.  Even though I had grown up aware that children do die - my own baby brother Danny died when I was just 6 years old - nothing prepared me for my daughter’s death. 

I was ill-equipped and ill-prepared as were most, if not all, of the people in my circle.  That first holiday season, and the next, and even the next were difficult for my wife and me. I wish someone had handed us the following information.  It might have made the journey a little easier.  That is my wish for you.

1. Remind yourself that you will survive.  You will.

2. Think about what will bring you the most peace. 

* Keeping all traditions in tact? 

* Tweaking some traditions a bit and adding new ones?

* Throwing out all the old traditions and starting new ones?

* Flying to Florida and completely skipping the holidays this year? It’s okay to do that.

3.  Don’t expect anyone to mention your deceased loved one by name.  Believe it or not, that’s your job.  People will look to you to determine whether or not it’s safe to talk about the deceased.  A few subtle ways to do that:

* Serve/bring your deceased loved one’s favorite holiday dish - talk about it!

* Bring a favorite picture - pass it around. Work it into the dining table centerpiece.

* Bring a favorite memento - a book, a poem, a watch, a piece of jewelry - share it after dinner.

* Have your loved one’s favorite music playing in the background - tell the story. 

4. Plan a special evening for close family and friends when you REMEMBER.  Ask everyone to bring a favorite photo and write down a special memory.  Set time aside to sit in a circle and share the photos and stories.

5. Remember that it’s okay - it’s even healthy - to cry.

6. It’s okay to stay in bed…you will get out, when you are ready and able.

7. It’s okay to smile or even laugh, a bit.  You’re not being disloyal.

8. Buy yourself a gift.  Wrap it.  Write a note - to you - from the deceased.

9. Be gentle.  Most of all be gentle with yourself.  You are doing the best you can.

10. Light a candle.  Hope.

Tom Zuba can be reached at tom@tomzuba.com or through his website: www.tomzuba.com

All I Wanted For Christmas Was … My Family

By Audrey Stringer –

How much did I love Christmas? I would start my Christmas shopping in July of each year. I was the social convener of the century, organizing party after party. And, of course, a real tree was mandatory. I loved the smell of a Christmas tree and loved touching the needles. And my collection of Christmas ornaments was huge. There were Christmas ornaments with my children’s names and ones we created together when the children were young. At our house, we decorated the tree together as a family, listening to Christmas carols and drinking eggnog.  

The death of my husband, Rhod, changed all that.

The pain in my heart was so big, I wished I could go to sleep on the first day of December and wake up a month later. It was two years after my husband’s death before I could enter the menswear department at the store; every sweater, every shirt reminded me that I had no husband to buy for.

The sadness was so encompassing that even the hint of joy made me feel guilty. If I was letting go of grief, for even a second, was I also letting go of the memory of Rhod?

I struggled with resentment, too.  I found it very difficult to be around family and friends who were happy about the holidays. I spent the first Christmas after Rhod’s death with my son and his family. They were excited about the holiday season, and my daughter-in-law had done a great job decorating the house and baking special treats.

They had many gifts for me. Everyone tried to make it a typical Christmas, with the family traditions, as if nothing had changed.  There was a pretense that everything was normal, that Rhod was just on holiday somewhere.  He wasn’t, of course, and I was angry with him leaving me. I also envied my son for his full family.

I realize now that my anger, resentment and guilt were all part of the normal grieving process that is somehow heightened by the holidays. And I’ve discovered some ways to cope more successfully.

For one, I create new traditions. Insisting on the same rituals only served to remind me of my loss. I started approaching Christmas differently. I bought all new decorations for the tree, choosing a different color scheme - gold and purple. I had fun putting angels on the tree with my grandchildren. For several years, we celebrated Christmas on Boxing Day. Changing the date seemed to take the emphasis off the holiday season. I also planned some holiday trips, which gave me something exciting to look forward to.

For several birthdays, Valentine’s day and Christmases after Rhod died, I tried something new: treating myself to a memorable gift. I bought myself a pair of diamond earrings that I had wanted before he died. I remember him fondly when I wear them.

I also remember Rhod by participating in special projects during the holidays. For example, I donated to the Stained Glass Window Fund at our church in Rhod’s memory. Now, when I am in church, it helps when I gaze up at this beautiful window and silently thank God for having Rhod in my life.

Focusing on the needs of others will help you immensely during the holidays. Not only does it divert your natural preoccupation with grief, but also replaces feelings of powerlessness with feelings of purpose.

I have mentored a young widow for two years. Her husband died in an industrial accident after only one year of marriage, and now she was suicidal. After much persuasion, she agreed  to go for a walk with me for an hour once or twice a week. It made a big difference during significant holidays. I shared the pain of suicide survivors like me, and she listened. Our walk, and talk, didn’t make her pain go away, but I think the connection helped her. I know it helped me.

Reach Audrey Stringer through her website, www.astringofhope.com

Planning Helps With the ‘Firsts’

By Sue Gilbert and Suzanne Redfern -

The following is an excerpt from The Grieving Garden, authored by Suzanne Redfern and Susan Gilbert (Hampton Roads Publishing, 2008). In this excerpt, Susan Benveniste, one of the book’s 22 contributors, speaks of her family’s first celebrations, including Thanksgiving, without their daughter, Shelly.

Enduring the “firsts” can be one of the hardest obstacles to face.  Examples of the firsts are:  holidays, birthdays, Mother’s or Father’s Day, and the death-day anniversary.  These days can hit with a vengeance, like a blow to the gut.  Planning in advance how to celebrate or spend these days gives us some control and can help soften the hurt.

In our case, the first major event we faced without Shelly was my husband’s 50^th birthday.  Not being up for a party, I packed him for a “surprise destination.” We flew to Palm Springs (not a normal vacation spot for us) and were met by our son Josh, who flew in from college also as a surprise. 

As we celebrated over dinner in a restaurant, it quickly became clear we would have to learn to be a family of three. Even the conversation dynamics had changed.  The celebration was bittersweet.  On the positive side, we had changed our routine and discovered we had the strength to face other such events.

Our first traditional holiday without Shelly was Thanksgiving.  Instead of our annual sit-down dinner with our small family, my mother planned a buffet so that Shelly’s absence wasn’t so “in our face.”  The following year, we were able to resume our normal routine.  The second Thanksgiving was still very difficult, but the pain was lessened by knowing we had gotten through it the year before, and would again.

For us, holidays are difficult especially now that our parents are deceased and our son isn’t always in town to celebrate with us.  We prefer to avoid restaurants or other public places where those celebrations are taking place.  A good movie in a dark theater can be a wonderful escape.  Some years, we find comfort in going to the cemetery; other years it’s just too painful. 

I have shared some of our experiences to illustrate that there is no right or wrong way to endure these “firsts.”  Each of you will find your own way.  I hope with passing time, you will be able to celebrate the joy your child brought to your family, as we do Shelly.

Finding Your Way to a ‘New Normal’

By Clara Hinton –

Grief is such a difficult journey, but it becomes especially difficult around the holiday season.  Everywhere you look, there are reminders of family times, laughter and cheer, and times spent sitting around the table telling stories and eating a delicious meal together.

For the person who has lost a family member, the holidays take on an entirely new meaning.  There are thoughts of emptiness, loneliness, incompleteness and a fear and dread of facing the holidays without their loved one there. The family is no longer whole. 

Following the death of my 13-year-old sister, the holidays changed dramatically.  She was a lively girl who loved to chatter, and she was often the highlight of the holiday because of her bubbling enthusiasm. 

She died in the month of June and the first Thanksgiving and Christmas were faced with an anxiety of not knowing what to do.  Others told us to act “normal” and to try to have a happy holiday season and to keep the family traditions going for the two remaining children - my younger sister and me.  That was probably the worst bit of advice we could have been given!

Nothing felt right.  We missed my sister terribly, but we didn’t know how to express our pain.  We attempted to have our usual turkey on Thanksgiving and our gift exchange and visit from Santa on Christmas. 

What a terrible mistake!  We didn’t feel ready to “celebrate” anything, much less carry on normally around family and friends. Those holidays are the worst I can remember.  We were suddenly foreigners in a strange new land wandering around lost, and we had no map to follow to guide us through the land of grief. 

When the death of a loved one occurs, for a long time we don’t even know who we are, much less know how to act.  Nothing smells right, feels right, or seems right because nothing is right. Why, then, would we try to act as if everything is normal?  Grief is a time when it is fine to break all traditions and do what is right for you.  It’s a time to take care of you and not feel guilty for doing so.  It’s a time to find a new normal - a place that is manageable for you without fear of criticism from others.  

Have a plan for the first holidays following the loss of your loved one.  Most often, the anxiety that leads up to the holiday is much worse than the actual days simply because we don’t have a plan.  Do what feels right to you. 

Maybe you want to eat fast food and take a walk in the woods or along the beach.  Perhaps you’d feel best if you visited the gravesite and spent time talking to your loved one.  Maybe you want to avoid the holidays altogether and you’d rather spend time at home working on a project or lounging in your pj’s all day with the phone turned off.  Whatever it is that will help you make it through the holidays is what you should do.  There is no right or wrong way to grieve. 

The first holidays are generally the worst because everything is so different and because your pain is still so raw.  Once you make it through the hurdles of the “firsts” you will find ways to include your loved one into all of your days, and with time you will find your “new normal.” 

Joy will eventually return, but it takes time and work.  Be extra kind to yourself as you take each step in this journey we call grief.  And, remind yourself often that there will come a time when you will face the holidays with anticipation and joy once again.  Nothing will ever be the same following your loss, but in time your new normal will allow you to laugh and enjoy happy times in a new and different way. 

Reach Clara Hinton through her website, www.silentgrief.com.

Enjoying the Holidays … Differently

By Chris Mulligan –

It’s time to party! the television advertisements say this time of year. Party? How could I party when some days I did not even want to get out of bed?

I did not want to go to work. I did not want to confront my day. How could I party when I could not even look at my face to put on a happy one? Getting through one’s days are difficult at best after the death of a child, but enduring the holiday season seems almost impossible to surmount. Depending upon the length of time in grief, some of us cannot or are not able to recognize that the holiday season is upon us, let alone enjoy it. 

In our early grief, some of us are oblivious to the presence of time in terms of days, weeks, months, and seasons. While most of us do not want to acknowledge the rest of the world’s observance of the holiday season and its celebrations, some of us are unable to recognize any of the events happening outside of their own pain.   Grieving is all-encompassing. It renders us incapable of viewing life beyond our own fog, our own pain, our own devastation.  Life is occurring on the inside. In early grief, experiencing life beyond our pain appears physically impossible as we focus on an internal world that has been irrevocably transformed. Is Halloween a scary event to envision with trepidation or is it a time to revisit yesterday’s joys created by the memories of past Halloween celebrations with your loved one?

Thirty days after my son Zac’s October 1^st death, my first holiday without him, it was frightening to recognize how frozen my feelings had become. The next month and my “first” Thanksgiving, I could only be grateful for the numbness that allowed autopilot to control my behaviors and move me through that day and its preparations.

But it was the first Christmas, which was previously the most anticipated time of the holiday season, that became the most dreaded and most difficult to experience. Ultimately, in my grief process, I had to make a decision about my life. I had to choose to continue living, and this included living through and celebrating the holidays. 

Getting through the holidays continues to be one of the most difficult hurdles for me. Nevertheless, the passing of each year allows for an accumulated history of experiencing feelings and recognizing the changes in your heart. Each person must find and incorporate what works for him or her. There are blogs, websites, books and newsletters that contain many helpful ideas. Support groups like Compassionate Friends are wonderful resources for sharing and discovering new ideas.   

Time will assist with one’s ability to move beyond the debilitating fog of early grief in relation to surviving the holidays. Acceptance supports us in “living what is.” I know when I eat a Rice Krispie treat in his honor and when I hang “The Judge” ornament on the Christmas tree, that Zac smiles. I can hear him laughing when Lynyrd Skynyrd sings, “Santa’s Messin’ with the Kid.” And, although I still have days in which I miss him terribly, I am now enjoying the holidays…differently.

Chris Mulligan has written about her first year of grief in Afterlife Agreements: A Gift From Beyond and continues to work with adoptive families. She can be reached through her website at http://Afterlifebooks,com.

Ten New Year’s Eves

By Katy Hutchison —  

December 31^st has come and gone ten times since my husband Bob was murdered in 1997.  While ringing in the New Year with friends, Bob left our dinner table to check on the home of a vacationing neighbor.  It had become apparent no responsible adult was overseeing a party the neighbor’s teenaged son was throwing.  Bob walked in on two hundred drunk and out of control youth.  Within minutes he was dead; beaten to death by two young men angered by his efforts to shut things down.  I was left a widow with four-year-old twins.

The first year after Bob’s death was a blur of just getting one foot in front of the other.  I focused my energy on putting meals on the table for my children, easing them into the routine of Kindergarten, and crying myself to sleep. 

Having the anniversary of Bob’s death fall on a holiday magnified the dread I felt as the first Christmas season approached.  I made arrangements to take my children away that first year; something we had never done before.  Just the thought of snow, the familiar boxes of decorations, the smell of turkey and one less place set at our table made me want to fall off the edge of the earth.

We spent the holidays on a beach in Mexico.  My children were kept busy by the impossibly happy recreation staff while I hid my swollen eyes behind sunglasses and pretended to read a trashy novel.  While the rest of the resort gaily counted down the minutes to midnight I pulled the covers over my head and prayed the next year would be easier.

The next year was not any easier, but it was different.  I had remarried and my husband Michael had two children of his own.  We made a real effort to create new holiday traditions which would honor our freshly blended family.  I began a different repertoire of Christmas baking and lay to rest some of Bob’s favorites. 

Michael’s daughter is bi-racial.  Her beautiful almond shaped eyes and shiny black hair show off her Asian heritage and it was her suggestion to celebrate Chinese New Year.  We held off popping the champagne in December and ate duck and oranges in February instead.  I still felt myself bracing for the holidays weeks in advance, but the jagged edges were smoothed somewhat by the curiosity of new rituals.

In the years that followed my sadness was more about the realization of how much Bob was missing.  Our twins had grown into adolescence and offered reminders of Bob’s character with ever increasing frequency. The arrival of each New Year simply served to remind me of his absence in our world. 

I learned to be good to myself as the holidays approached; not over-committing the family socially and building in lots of time and space to look after one another’s hearts.  I made a habit of going to bed before the ball dropped.

We endured an additional layer of pressure in the fact our tragic story had been very public.  For many years the media would contact us to ask what New Years felt like in the distancing wake of Bob’s murder.  No magic number of times turning over the last page of a calendar would make his death any easier to bear. 

A few years ago on December 31^st, I found our kitchen crowded with an impromptu gathering of friends and family.  A close friend’s marriage had just fallen apart and she had brought her children along to get away from her own holiday grief. 

I realized that night that life does move forward.  It brings with it new circumstances to celebrate, as well as new circumstances to mourn.  I was grateful my grief for Bob had shrunk to allow room in my heart to help my friend get through her own loss.  Before I knew it, it was midnight; the first time in many years I had seen the New Year in.  My arms encircled my friend on one side and Michael on the other.  Our children danced with sparklers on the lawn while our tears of joy flowed amidst tears of sadness.  Life and death are messy.

Now our twins are in their teens, and New Year’s Eve has become an exciting social event among their peers.  They confessed to me a concern I would never let them go out to celebrate.  On the contrary, I am grateful for their healthy, normal and very typical teen need to be with their friends.  I explained to them they have a lifetime of New Year’s Eves ahead of them.  They deserve to look forward to that night with eager anticipation, for it to be special and enjoyed safely in the company of good people.  They deserve it to be the start of something wonderful rather that a reminder of a horrible moment in time.  Bob would be the first to agree.

Gung Hay Fat Choy!

Reach Katy Hutchison at katy@katyhutchisonpresents.com

You WILL Survive the Holidays

By Kay Bevington –

Those first few holiday seasons after the death of child can cause the parents great pain. That was certainly the case for my husband and me after we lost our daughter Rhonda when she was 16. Here are some things that we did (and some that we didn’t) that helped us gain some pleasure from the holidays. It will never be the same without your child/children but you will learn to cope and reinvest in others and have a life again.

PLAN AHEAD

Think about and plan for these next few weeks.  Decide what you want to do and let those who are close to you know what you need. 

CHANGE

Sometimes changing where and when holidays are celebrated helps. Perhaps your family would agree to have one gathering this year between the two holidays. Just because you’ve always hosted the gatherings at your house in the past does not mean it has to be the same. Inform your family that you’re unable to do this and tell them you will be having it at a restaurant this year or ask another family member to do it for you.  Often, we have found, the intensity of the pain lessens in a different environment. 

HELP OTHERS

Some people decide to work in local food kitchens on these special days.  Many who have done this say it helped them focus on what they have and see that life is often more painful and difficult for others.  It also makes us feel so much better when we give of ourselves to others.

DECORATING

If you feel your home needs to be decorated for the holidays but you can not muster the courage or energy to do it, then ask a friend or family member to assist or do it for you.  You may want to consider decorating the gravesite instead or in addition to what you do at home. 

ATTENDING SPECIAL EVENTS

Go to special events if you’d like to but inform your host or hostess that you may need to “escape” inconspicuously if you can not handle it.  Think about and look for others who are having a difficult time during the holidays and plan to attend or sit with them.  It helps to have someone nearby who truly understands.

ATTENDING WORSHP SERVICES

Often bereaved parents will say that music and worship services are the most difficult to attend after a child’s death.  We may be angry at God, and we most definitely feel cheated when other families seem to be intact and ours is not.  Loneliness and unfairness are our feelings and often cause despair.  If you are able to attend the annual services of your place of worship, you may want to sit near the aisle or at the back so you can have an easy escape route and not be “hemmed into the middle.”    

REMEMBERING YOUR CHILD

You might want to purchase a special candle in memory of your child.  Light the candle daily from Thanksgiving through Christmas.  You also may want to take an item of your child’s clothing and have them cut and designed for a doll or bear.  Jewelry can be melted, redesigned and sized for others to wear.  Be creative and think of ways that you can use the belongings of your child to create something new that will help others to remember him or her. 

Whether this is your first year of bereavement or if it has been several years since your child died you will find that you WILL survive the holidays  You can gain some small pleasures if you plan to include the memories of your child in your holidays.

Reach Kay Bevington at www.alivealone.org.

Take Advantage of Holiday Opportunities

By Diana Doyle -

Holiday times are an obstacle course of emotions for anyone trapped in grief.  For me, having lost a daughter, sister and mother in recent years, the feelings of sadness and heartache usually start as soon as the stores fill their aisles with sparkling decorations, fancy costumes or cards.  To anyone who has lost a loved one, these times are a strange blend of sorrow and joy.

We only had five Christmases with our daughter Savannah, which will never be enough.  Nor will the New Year’s Eves we spent with my sister and our children and families.

And then there’s Mother’s Day.  How I hate Mother’s Day now!  I can’t call my adored mom to tell her how much I love her as I always did; my sister’s youngest two kids never even knew a mother’s love; and, even though I still have our precious daughter, Dempsey, Mother’s Day doesn’t seem complete for me if Savannah isn’t there to throw her arms around my neck and whisper in my ear that I am the best mom in the world.  Each holiday presents its own raft of emotional challenges-and sometimes, nothing helps soften the blows.

At these times, I find it best to give in to the tears.  I mourn my losses and allow myself to feel sad.  Letting tears flow is nature’s way of healing and I always feel better and stronger the next day.  Sometimes, I set the phone on answer mode and am kind to myself by buying chocolate or junky magazines, into which I can escape the real world for a while.

On the year’s “special” days, I know I won’t be surrounded by those I’ve lost-not in the physical sense, anyway.  But I can choose to remember the joy of past holidays with them and I can create happy new memories with remaining family and friends that will help me move forward.

This year, we’ll celebrate our Christmas holiday by hanging photos of those who are gone on our tree.  We’ll light a special candle for each one who’s missing and clink our glasses in toasts as we reminisce about them.  Some people I’ve spoken with about this find giving a gift to a needy child helps to fill the gap.  Or they volunteer some of their spare time to charitable organizations.

On our mantle, overlooking the dining room table on every holiday we celebrate, is the last photo of us as a complete family.  It takes me back to the time before we were untouched by loss, the time when we thought we’d live forever.  Everyone is smiling and so full of life-my sister pregnant with twins, Mom laughing as her wig slides sideways, and our angel Savannah showing off her frilly outfit, perched on my lap.  When I look at that photo and recall that moment, I can relive the happy memory and smile.  I will forever be grateful having had that time.

So, during the various holidays of my year, I reflect on the past and do my best to look at what I do have instead of what I don’t.  I make a point to tell all I care about who are still in my life, how special they are to me.  I have the strongest feeling that those who have died are all watching, happy to know that I can go on without them and make the most of what life I’ve been given.

Reach Diana Doyle at savvydoyle@hotmail.com

Helping Children Grieve During the Holidays

By Pamela Gabbay, M.A., FT -

The holiday season is painful for adults after the death of a loved one, but it can be even more isolating and distressing for children if they are not given ample guidance from the adults in their lives.  Here are some suggestions for how to help your children during the holidays:

1.     Suppress the urge to ignore the holidays because they seem too painful to endure.  It’s important that children are given the opportunity to celebrate the holidays without feeling bad or feeling guilty.  After all, they still have a need to “just be a kid,” especially during the holidays.

2.     Discuss the painful feelings that might arise during the holiday season.  Children are flooded with memories from the past and they want everything to go back to the way it was before. Help normalize these feelings for your children by allowing them to openly talk about their feelings.  As a parent, you might explain that you’ve been feeling that way, too.

3.     Together, as a family, create new holiday traditions.  When creating these new rituals, ask your children what they want.  Their input is extremely important.  If you have more than one child, get all of their opinions.  Then, as a group, decide the best way to spend the holidays.

4.     Include the memory of your loved one in your celebration.  Encourage your children to make something meaningful, such as a holiday card or special gift, specifically for your loved one.  Decide as a family where these items should be placed during the holidays.  Your children might want to place them under the tree, on the fireplace mantle, or in their room.  Some children might want to take these items to the cemetery.

5.     Spend time together reflecting back on special holiday memories from the past. Have your children draw a picture of their favorite holiday memory.  Give them the opportunity to talk about their drawing, if they choose to.

6.     Light a candle in memory of your loved one.  If you have more than one child, allow each child to have his or her own special candle.  Consider creating a place of honor for the candles in your home.

7.     Together, make a holiday ornament in memory of the person who died.  Or, consider an ongoing ritual of purchasing an ornament each year in their memory.  This ornament could represent anything your loved one held dear.

8.      If the person who died had any favorite holiday songs, play these songs with your children and reflect back on meaningful times that you had together while listening to these songs.

9.     Plan a special remembrance meal together.  Help your children bake a favorite holiday dish or dessert of the person who died. If you have more than one child, offer each child the opportunity to make a favorite dish.

10. As a family, consider volunteering your time to a charity in need during the holidays.  Often, giving back to others who are also hurting can be very beneficial to grieving children.

11. Donate toys to a charity that helps children.  Have your children help you choose and purchase the toys and then wrap them together.  Include your children in the delivery of the toys.

12. Attend a holiday memorial celebration as a family.  Many communities hold candle lighting events during the holidays. This provides an opportunity for you and your children to honor the memory of your loved one in a community setting.  Check with your local hospice to see if they have an upcoming event this holiday season.

Pamela Gabbay is the Program Director of The Mourning Star Center for grieving children in Palm Desert, California, and works extensively with grieving children, teens and their families.

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