Chapter 20, PART 1

Today is Thanksgiving and I know that at some point the hurt will surface. Sometimes different days, holidays or events cause particularly bad days. Obviously, your child’s birthday, day of the death, and special days to your family might be a strain. The thought of Mother’s Day can wreck your spirit.

As for myself, I have found the days leading up to my son’s death day and birthday are almost worse than the actual days themselves because I begin to think about him and the loss more intently. Ironically, Thanksgiving and Christmas, so far, have not been as bad for me as I thought, because I am surrounded by so many boisterous family members that it feels as though he could walk through the door, and Logan’s spirit resides in our family.

Despite the knowledge that my whole family will surround me, however, in the days before the holiday, I feel a general lassitude towards the whole event. Last night I went to bed with no enthusiasm for Thanksgiving even though it will give me a chance to see my brothers in Georgia, my mother and father, my nieces and nephews, in short, my whole family of origin. Our family has an unbounded sense of humor. I’ve been told I should be a stand-up comic by some of my students, and I’m a shadow compared to my brothers in that department, so we spend much time laughing and joking and always having competitive games for fun.

Chapter 20, PART 2

This morning I awoke to the task of making it through Thanksgiving Day. I did not leap out of bed wanting to make the drive although it takes less than two hours from our home to my brother’s home. I feel tired although I slept in and am already wondering at what time we can leave to come back home and dreading that we will be there until late at night. This is in no way a reflection upon my family, but simply a by-product of my grief.

Instead of bounding awake in anticipation, I woke up dreaming about a grief camp that I was attending (not in real life—this was in my dream). I remember the last part of the dream and one man was revealing why he was there, for someone, not even a child, gone sixteen-years-earlier, and I thought in the dream, “Sixteen years?” I thought during the dream that it seemed to be an inordinately long time, but as I think about it, perhaps this is the way my holidays will go for the rest of my life. You go, participate, have fun, but inside I’d just as soon be back here at home, doing nothing.

Chapter 20, PART 3

Hazel told me that holidays are still “sort of” painful, forty years later. Her daughter hangs her Christmas decorations. She’ll see something in a store while holiday shopping and think, “Peter would like that,” but of course the verb tense has changed to “would have.” This fills me with sadness because I used to approach the holidays with tremendous love and cheer, and Thanksgiving was even better for me than Christmas because the family gatherings were about love, not about the Christmas production. Now, the holidays have become an obligation. Perhaps if I were basting a turkey and mashing potatoes, I’d be too busy to think, but I’m not, and in fact, I asked my husband to go buy the snacks and bread to take to my brother’s house. I feel as though I need to shake the feeling before we leave, but the reality remains that I want to sit here and cry for an hour.

I do not want to cry in front of everyone because the nieces and nephews will not understand the depth of pain, my mother will cry at my tears, and no one will know what to do. I guess I can always type until it’s time to go, but this book is designed to show you, the reader that you are not alone if you feel the loss at times debilitating.

Chapter 20, part 4

I made it through Thanksgiving, and last night, December 01, I decided to decorate the tree. We had friends over, which helped. Every time I picked up an ornament with Logan’s name on it, my heart grew heavy, and we have several with the entire family listed on them. Hanging the stockings, which before seemed like a valued Christmas ceremony, I did quickly while trying not to cry at the stocking with Logan’s name on it. My husband’s mother made us all elaborately embroidered and appliquéd stockings before she died over ten years ago and they look beautiful. I treasure Logan’s and people might think it morose to hang it, but I figure it will be filled with love, far more important than trinkets and gadgets and gift cards.

Chapter 20, part 5

However, Easter is also a time of great sadness for me because it evokes the memory of perhaps the happiest day of my life. At that time my daughter had joined the Air Force, and we had not seen her for over a year. She flew in on an Easter morning at dawn. Both of my sons rode with me to the airport. In the car on the way back home with my three children, I watched the pink skies of dawn while we drove by wetlands where mist was rising from the marsh. I had Yanni on the car stereo and felt totally at peace because my three children were reunited with me after such a long time.

Logan spoke from the back seat to me.

“Mom, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking how magical this is with the music and mist and because we’re all together,” and he laughed, but he obviously recognized the same moment to even comment on it. And it was magical for me and will forever in my mind stand as a defining moment in my life.

Chapter 20, part 6

Once again, as I write this, tears come to my eyes because I know I will never again in my life have the opportunity to be reunited with my three children, not on Easter, Mother’s Day or even for Sunday dinner. For this I still grieve because I feel bereft of what, throughout my life, has made me happiest. Of course, I still have other joyful moments, but not the one that always made me feel complete. On these days although busy, rich and full with food, company, and laughter, a part is always missing. This makes it hard to accept.

For some of you, the holidays might be even worse than for others of us. If your child died on or around a holiday, while others in your world celebrate, you feel horrible grief. Even if you prepare the ritual feasts and try to go on to make others’ lives better, you have not only the anguish of sorrow, but also the loneliness of feeling it most deeply and perhaps alone. I cannot imagine with what dread you face these days.

Chapter 20, part 7

Halloween held significant importance in our home because of the fun involved. It’s doubtful you have a gallows outside or a man-sized plywood casket in your attic, with a headless man’s body, an arm, a woman’s head and ghosts stored in it. Rest easy, these are but props, but our whole family worked to make Halloween fun for the neighborhood children, sometimes with our fog machine, strobe lights and people growling in the bushes. Logan used to participate and I remember one of his costumes, a brown monk’s outfit and his short hair painted green: “the punk monk.”

I know the neighbors who do not know us might wonder why one year, our Halloween extravaganza of decorating simply stopped and we often do not even stay at home on Halloween. Perhaps they think we’ve moved. I use the Halloween décor for functions at the college, but three months after my son’s death, I could not make light of death, and now it seems like too much effort.

I wonder if it will always be this way because I would like to recover my zest for living. Holidays are gradually becoming easier, but I still lack the enthusiasm. However, I do not think holidays affect one as much as the day of your child’s death.

Chapter 20, part 8

ACTIVITY

What do you expect to happen to you the next holiday? If you are new to losing a child and are expected to go somewhere, you might want to tell your hosts ahead of time that you are not sure how you will react. If the holiday is to be celebrated at your home, whose help can you enlist to make it easier for you? Make a list and ask for help from people, explaining your feelings. Most people will be grateful to be able to do something for you. It does get easier with each passing year.