Do you feel this is the last Christmas with your spouse or parent?
Maybe your loved one has just been placed in hospice–or maybe you just know.
You have that feeling.
Perhaps you or your loved one is facing a cancer diagnosis, or you’re at the end stages of Alzheimer’s or heart disease.
This can put a cloud over the festivities. It’s hard to get in the holiday mood while your kitchen counter is filled with medicine bottles–and not gingerbread men.
It gets tiring when you worry about what you say or do being “the last.”
Everything drips with meaning. You’re standing in Wal Mart and feel weepy.
For some of us, it throws us into hyper-drive. We’ve got to create the perfect Christmas. We use that control button in our heads to keep us busy–to keep us from feeling.
Or…you can’t seem to wedge your butt off the couch. Flipping channels has somehow become your life.
You don’t know it, but this is the face of grief.
We start grieving long before death enters the picture. We project ourselves forward and think of the next holiday without them, or we throw ourselves in the past and long for those “golden days.”
The word grief means: Deep mental anguish, as that arising from bereavement.
But that’s dictionary talk. Grief is like a face. While we all (okay, most) have two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, no two faces are the same. Grief is never the same. We wear experience it differently.
So what do you do if you feel like this is your last Christmas together?
I know this is a tough question because it makes you look at it, but take a minute right now, and let’s look at it.
Do exactly what you feel like doing.
We’re so used to not trusting our feelings. We’re so afraid we’ll go too far.
But I’m asking you to please trust that you, your body, and your spirit is wise. It knows how to care for itself. It may get clouded and all gunked up, but for the most part, most of us do know when it’s safe to cry, to rest, to be restless…to feel. And like those lovely faces, no two of us will navigate losing a loved one the same.
Don’t be afraid to do what you feel like doing–running like crazy or sleeping like crazy.
Are you afraid you’ll miss something significant?
Could you really grasp “significant” right now? Even if it hit you on the side of the head?
I really do believe that after about 3 days (for some, three weeks or three months) of being a couch potato, you’d get sick of the same old “As Seen on TV” merchandise–or, you’d get carpel tunnel from flipping channels so much and you’d be ready to quit.
Even scientists have observed this–they find that if a child is exposed to copious amounts of pizza, chips, cookies, and apples–they’ll eventually get the junk food crave out of their system and willingly choose the apple.
But if you can, try not to jump time–don’t go to the future–to the time your loved one dies. Be present. That season isn’t here yet.
Also realize that if you’ve been caregiving for several years, you may have hit the caregiver’s wall–you may feel numb, exhausted, and zombie-llike.
Trust the process. If you go too far, you’ll know it–everyone else will know it.
If you do have the ability to rationalize and feel, then cherish this season. Don’t dread it or push it away.
Don’t make everything drip with meaning. That can get exhausting and annoying.
Your loved one won’t appreciate being inthe spotlight every second. Follow the moment.
When something touching, seweet, or poignant happens, you have a better chance of recognizing it if you are “gently” alert.
If you get a few photographs or can jot down a few thoughts, then you’ll have something you can treasure for years.
If you can’t–or don’t–then let it go. I promise you, all you need is one moment–one glance, one gentle touch of the hand, one brush of the hair–somethig will rise to the top. You will have your moment. You will find the sweetness in the season. Just let it happen.
Our relationships–and the holidays–aren’t to be forced.
Be willing to give in and see where it takes you. I’ve learned that the best way to get over something is sometimes to give in.
Remember when people used to get the cold or flu?
What would they do?
Call in sick. Stay home. Go to bed.
It seems like no one will even take a break any more. We pump ourselves up on a dozen meds and drag our sniffling, hacking, feverish hineys into work (only to infect others). Sure, you might hear of someone staying home a day or two, but not much more than that–and if you’ve had the flu, you know that you still feel like crap after two days.
How much more kind and understanding should we be with our souls?
Grief isn’t something you can fight. Nor should you. You can’t just “get over it.”
It’s natural, and for the most part, healthy.
It means you really loved, and that right now, it hurts. How precious life is. We should honor our experiences.
Trust that this holiday will give you a gift–at the most unexpected turn.
~Carol O’Dell, and hope you’ll check out my book, Mothering Mother
