As it inevitably does year after year, the holiday season has rolled around to us again.  This year a good friend of mine is experiencing his first “empty” Christmas.  His children either live too far away or are too busy with their own plans and lives to offer him comfort.  He faces this emptiness alone. I shared with him tools to stand as if on an island of peace.

 I discovered these tools myself when my own family faced their first empty holiday.  I remember spending a lot of time in thought and directed loads of energy toward finding ways to help us get through what we all dreaded.  Mom had died in April that year, and we had already faced several holidays and special occasions in quick succession – Easter holiday, her birthday that summer, Thanksgiving and finally the biggie – Christmas. She was the backbone of our family, and we were reminded each holiday that she was gone.

That December I attended a ceremony held at a funeral home. They hosted services for anyone who had recently lost a loved one.  It was a welcoming “place where grief and Christmas could come together, safely and appropriately.”  The service was lovely – not overly sentimental but still warm and meaningful.  Yes, I cried but I also laughed, and that really felt okay. For that moment, I was on an island of peace where I could feel happy with the memories, but at the same time acknowledge feeling heartbroken for the loss.

It just felt right to be in a place where, for those few hours, tears mingled with joy was accepted.  This was the norm, for that short while at least.  This was a place where we did not have to worry about upsetting someone or ruining other’s good time – because all were in the same boat called grief, all searching for the same thing, our safe and comforting island of peace.  At the nursing home, there were tips and suggestions for ways to cope and make it through what is often the grimmest time of the year – because it isn’t just one day but a whole season.  I took some of the pamphlets “I can’t face the holidays!” and gave them to friends who had also lost precious loved ones.

Friends and acquaintances, co-workers and even relatives often don’t know what to say, and they often stare at us from their places of concerned helplessness.  We usually respond to “How are you?” simple, but inadequately with “OK.”  There it ends because we are unsure what to say to them.  What we could say instead is, “I’m doing okay, but it is really tough right now.”  We might actually help others who say, “If there is anything I can do, let me know” by offering something they could do that would help lighten our burden. If you really want to have home baked goodies, for example, maybe invite the person who offers to come over to help you cook one afternoon, or let them take you out to the mall, or go for coffee.  Don’t be shy on your pursuit to find your island of peace.

Grief saps our energy, our minds, our bodies, and spirits.  It’s a time when we need to give ourselves permission to accept all of the gifts others offer, while at the same time giving ourselves permission to be happy and sad at the same time.  Many of us are going through the same emotional draining time of the year.  Grief is about loss after all.  December is the time many of us, no matter what our faith, face the pressures and dilemmas of celebration and feasting, to be seen going about life as if nothing has happened while we may be facing the most difficult loss of our lives.

When we grieve, we need to remove as much of this pressure on ourselves as we can.  Change things if that makes it easier for you. Change a lot, a little, or do things the same way, whatever will make it more comfortable for you.  Talk with your family.  Do whatever brings you ease and a sense of well-being.  It’s okay to be sad and happy at the same time. You must do what you need to do to find your island of peace.  You are not losing your mind. It is the season and that time of year. You will get through it. I’m going to close this entry with one of the readings from that evening:

 In the rising of the sun and in its going down, we will remember them.

In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter, we will remember them.

In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer, we will remember them.

In the rustling of leaves and in the beauty of autumn, we will remember them.

In the beginning of the year and in its end, we will remember them.

When we are weary and in need of strength, we will remember them.

When we are lost and sick at heart, we will remember them.

So long as we live, they shall live, for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.

May the blessings of the season surround and comfort you.  May you find your island of peace!