Christmas Mourning: Some Notes on Grief In This Holiday Season

Christmas is right around the corner, and many people are planning to celebrate with their loved ones. Laughter over good food, pretty lights, joyous festive music—these are all characteristic of this holiday season. But what happens when you don’t feel like celebrating because you’re dealing with grief? Mourning of a dream? Or even mourning a part of yourself?

As a Christian, Christmas is supposed to be about celebrating the birth of Jesus, God in flesh, the one who came to fulfill Old Testament prophecies and bring us hope in our broken world.

The brokenness feels so palpable, doesn’t it? It’s hard to feel hope, especially when the world around you is falling apart, both literally and figuratively. And when you’ve lost your loved one, the Daily News can make you feel like you’re not allowed to be sad because there are worse things to be sad over. Specifically, that you need to get over your own loss. Like you haven’t won the trophy of “most deserves to be sad”.

Let me be the first to say that you don’t need permission to mourn. You don’t need to have the most traumatic sob story out there to be finally told, “Okay, it’s your turn now. Go cry.” You can mourn whenever and as much as you need. There is no threshold for grief. Grief will exist whether or not you allow it to.

It’s also okay if you don’t know what to feel. Maybe you have a bunch of complicated emotions to work through due to complicated circumstances. Your loved one isn’t here anymore, and it’s more quiet than other Christmases have been. And that’s enough to feel some type of way.

“You don’t need permission to mourn.”

When my dad passed, I didn’t know what to feel. I didn’t know what to say, or do, or think. So I threw myself into other things, like my internship, my grad program, and I kept myself busy. This was good in some ways, as I didn’t let myself get swallowed up by grief. But I also needed to give myself more time to process what was happening.

Something I learned in the past two years since dad passed is that many people don’t know what to say when it comes to grief. They don’t want to say the “wrong” thing, so they don’t say anything. (Note: People don’t know how to deal with death, so don’t fault them for this.) So aside from my family, I largely kept the depth of my grief to myself.

“Many people don’t know what to say when it comes to grief, so they won’t say anything.”

Our culture eschews sadness. Phrases like, “Don’t give up!”, and “look at the silver lining”, “awww, it’s okay!”, “this is all part of God’s plan” are thrown at anyone who doesn’t tow the party line. Because let’s face it—we are taught to smile before we are taught to listen. So it’s no wonder that those who are truly suffering feel steamrolled—if not with toxic positivity, with the daily grind of life as learn to shove our newly grieved realities into the mould.

But there’s a truth here, and it is this: the world doesn’t slow down for anyone. Which is why it’s sometimes easier to stuff the sadness down just to keep going. Because we have to keep going. There will always be deadlines, always be something to do, a bill to pay, or a person counting on you. But if you’re mourning or grieving, you know this, too.

“The world doesn’t stop.”

Another thing I learned in the past two years is that you can’t just will grief away, because there is no end date for it. It becomes easier to grapple with when you choose to accept it, but you have to make time and space to do that. Acceptance is not an immediate phenomenon; it is a process.

Accepting it doesn’t mean that you’re always happy, or that you’re always sad. Accepting loss can mean that you’re no longer defensive when your loved one is brought up, or that you’re willing to discuss your actual feelings about the loss.

As the holiday season approaches, I’ve been asked more than a handful of times by well-intentioned people, “How are you, really?”, or even more bluntly, “Will Christmas be difficult for you this year?”. And usually this more accurately translates to, “Where are you in your grieving process?” Well, I’m not done, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be done. But I’m a lot further along than I was a few years ago, and this is how I got here.

1. Do the small things.

You might not feel like doing much right now. Feeling the “spirit of Christmas” might not be your vibe. But you can wake up. Brush your teeth. Get dressed. If that’s too much, just put one foot in front of the other. Take a sip of water. Depression is a real energy-zapper, so focus on what your body needs to survive, and your basic commitments. And besides, doing the small, daily tasks allows you to not feel so stuck.

2. Surround yourself with people you love.

It’s really easy to want to isolate yourself this time of year. If you live where it gets cold in the winter and are naturally introverted, staying inside your home feels like a safe haven. It’s warm and quiet. The malls are crowded and loud, supermarket parking lots spike anxiety, and declining party invites means that you don’t have to buy a gift. And besides, you probably don’t feel like making small-talk anyway.

But although being alone might sound tempting, be careful not to be alone too long. You don’t have to leave your house. If you live with family, watch a movie together. If you live alone, try to phone a friend. Humans are social creatures, and we need each other to survive. Even if you don’t have anything to say, you can tell your friend that, and enjoy touring the world through someone else’s eyes for a change.

3. Even if it feels like you’re talking to a wall, try to pray.

The God of all creation loves you, and hasn’t gone anywhere—even if you can’t sense Him. Maybe you’re upset or angry at Him, or are at a loss for words. If you’ve grown up in the church, you might even feel guilty for feeling angry, and can’t bring yourself to accept it. You might know intellectually that bad things sometimes happen, and that God is good, but if you’re being honest, your heart finds it hard to reconcile the reality of your grief with that. The good news is that God can handle all of our big emotions.

Maybe you haven’t grown up in church, and you have no qualms with your anger with God.

Still try to talk with God. Journal. Cry. Direct your thoughts toward Him. They don’t have to be good ones. Just come as you are, anger, hurt, desperation and all. Just say, “Hey God, I’m here. I’m a mess right now, but I’m sure you know that.” and tell him what’s on your heart. I promise your heart will feel lighter, even if you don’t feel like you’re getting a response. (You are, by the way, but recognizing the Lord in your life can take some time and practice.) It is not meant to be just another item on the to-do list.

4. Treat yourself like you would your friend or future/curent child—with grace.

Sometimes when we feel stuck in our grief, we are hard on ourselves. For me, I felt I was doing everything I could to “keep up” with life, but it still wasn’t enough. I was drained, but my grad student self had to keep (and still has to keep) producing written material. I lost interest in my leisure writing, leisure reading, and focused on the day-to-day. But I was hard on myself for it, wondering, “Why can’t I just do things the way I used to?”

Lately, I’ve taken up the practice of addressing the inner child in me, and talking to her as I would a future daughter, or a friend. If your child was mourning, grieving, depressed—what would you say to them? Would you say, “Why can’t you just do things the way you used to? Just pull up your bootstraps, it’s not that hard!”. No. You would likely say something along the lines of, “It’s okay, hon. This is a hard thing you’re going through right now. You’re doing your best. Let me give you a hug.”

You would show grace to someone else in the same position. So why not show grace to yourself? I’ve heard the phrase (paraphrased), “If beating yourself up worked, it would’ve worked by now,” and it’s true. So put down the finger, relax those shoulders, and know that you are doing enough. You are enough. And you should recognize the hard work it’s taken to even get this far—even if it’s just out of bed.

With that in mind, I pray you have a Merry Christmas, even if it looks different than it has before.

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