The Holidays

This Christmas will be different from the last one, and the one before that. I am in countdown mode for Matthew to come home! I miss him probably more than I should. Losing Noah left a void in me that will never be filled, and then having Matthew go away, well that left a different kind of void. We went from a house full of laughter, love and craziness of 4 and a dog, down to 2 and a dog in under a year. It has been a massive year of adjusting.

Tonight, while sitting with Rick after dinner, I just blurted out “I have no desire to have Christmas.” His reply was “we still have other children and grandchildren.” “I am aware” was how I answered that. Then the tears came. My response was filled with weight. Weight that swung back around and hit me square in the face. I then thought about how it was still almost 3 weeks away, and that seems like an eternity right now. Where people are hustling and worrying about how Christmas is sneaking up on them and they still have shopping and preparing to do, I sit here feeling empty, and really couldn’t care less. Yes, I will make sure there are gifts, and we will get a tree, and we will have a dinner……..because that is what we are suppose to do. I haven’t gotten to the point where it is something I want to do. I am going through the motions, hoping that one day that “want” will return.

The holidays are especially hard for people that are grieving. I spoke with another mom today who also lost her son. I look her in the eyes when I speak to her, and we connect. Her eyes look sad and both of us have tears welling up as we chat. This is not a connection either of us would ever wish on another mom. We were discussing the holidays and people’s expectations (or so we assume) and what we would want people to know about us during the holiday season.

Once you are past the first year, you are more present and less numb. Although this makes you feel like you have returned somewhat to the living, your senses are on high alert. Because of this, your emotions will ebb and flow back and forth. You are so clearly aware that what was once your normal will never be again, and the joy you felt then, has not returned, not yet.

The simple, memory making tasks look and feel different now. For example, when it was time to get a tree, we would all load into the truck and go all over the place looking to buy the perfect tree for us. The boys would joke about how, just like every other year, we will spend hours looking because Rick has to have “the perfect tree”, only to go back to where we started, and buy the first tree we looked at. There would be tons of joking around and laughing. They would be just as into it as their dad, pointing out every little flaw, or finding the big gaping hole, but assuring me that we could turn that side to the wall and no one would be the wiser. This year, I have no desire to have a tree. That is probably more to do with not having the experience I was use to having with the boys than anything else and the task feels daunting. For now, it feels more like a chore than joy.

The gatherings. People getting together, being festive, chatting, laughing, reminiscing. I wrote before about how I felt like the Thanksgiving weekend, wherever we went, Noah wasn’t mentioned. Maybe people think that if they avoid saying his name or bringing him up, that we will feel more normal? It is the opposite now. We are so aware that he is no longer here that when he isn’t mentioned, it is magnified tenfold. We want to talk about him, hear your stories about him, know that you still remember him and miss him like we do. Every gathering I go to, I feel the void of him no longer being here to celebrate and make memories with us. I am aware that his laugh is not resonating through the house. It makes me think of all the things that we should be looking forward to, like Noah finding his true love, getting married, having children. We not only lost him, but lost our future with him. Think about that for a minute, and imagine how empty that makes you feel. Those are more of the milestones I imagined the day he was born.

The traditions. Every year, since the boys were small, but old enough to eat chocolate, I have bought them a chocolate letter. It was something that I had growing up, that I have continued with them. I went today to buy them, methodically going through all the names I need to remember, and I grab a second “N” because Noah is in the list. I immediately threw it back. It cut me like a knife. A simple, stupid chocolate letter rocked the emotion wagon. I should have bought it. A side note to this, as I walked away and went up the next aisle, I hear a little girl calling “Noah, Noah, Noah!” I froze right there in the food aisle and grabbed my stomach. The tears started to come, and I had to turn and stare at the food on the shelf until I could breathe normally. Sounds silly, right? But this is the new reality. I had to compose myself, I can’t stand in the middle of this store and cry. I pull myself together, then head straight for the checkout, so I could get out of the store.

Of course, no holiday is complete without Family. Up until last year, (or maybe I did do it last year. I honestly don’t remember), we almost always host my side of the family’s Christmas dinner. Mainly because of the logistics of where everyone lives and we are the most central. I have always loved doing this, although it is exhausting. The family all laughing and chatting. I cook a turkey with stuffing, and ham (Noah’s favorite), green bean casserole (another favorite), potatoes and carrots and brussel sprouts and gravy. It was always a fun time. The kids, or young adults now, would sit in the TV room and play games. I would be in the kitchen, hearing them laugh, and snort and swearing, and I would soak up every second of it. It warmed my heart. Since Noah’s passing, they now sit with the adults and chat with us. I get it, they are adults now, but I can’t help but wonder if they realize that this tradition for them has stopped, and is it because they would have to face the fact that everything has changed? Not just for us, but for all the extended family as well. Noah had a presence that has left a massive hole that we all feel.

I would venture to say that grief has made us somewhat selfish. We try not to commit to events too far ahead, because we don’t know how we will feel when the time comes. We also allow ourselves to change our mind, and if we feel that we wouldn’t be the best company at that time, or that we just don’t want to “people,” then we won’t. We spend much of our time alone. Perhaps it isn’t selfishness, but rather self preservation.

During this holiday season, we need to be kind to ourselves first. Those that know me really well, know that this is probably the hardest thing for me to do, but it is time. If I don’t take care of my mind, body and soul, then I am not going to be any good for anyone else either. Losing Noah has shown me that life is short, and that we all need to surround ourselves with people that will carry the load when it is too heavy for us to carry alone, and celebrate with us even the most minute things that bring us joy.

My holiday wish for all of you is that if you have broken fences, mend them. Reach out to those that may be too proud to ask for help. Be kind to others, no gesture is too small. Above all, be kind to yourself, and let others know that you appreciate them and love them. These truly are the best gifts you can give.

Merry Christmas from our family to yours.