The holidays and grief, is this really so?!

I don’t usually like to talk about things, deep things, never dark things. I talk about my son, with awe at his achievement. I have some Nordic genetic defect which inhibits me from displaying private moments or showing such “weakness!” Haha! But I thought I would share this…

Twelve years ago, I ended my volatile marriage with an even worse, tumultuous, horrendous long divorce. 2 months after I walked out of that house, my baby was diagnosed with autism. I had already lost my job (with everything going on personally and the recession), and I felt my only option was to start my own business, in the midst of all of my life turmoil. I struggled, to survive, to manage, to stay sane, somewhat. My dad was such a rock, such a support, a best friend to my son, always saying to me, “You got this, Babe!” But he got progressively sick over those years, and three years ago at Thanksgiving, he fell and a stay at the hospital turned out to be a brain cancer diagnosis. He died three weeks later.

I never thought I would be one of those people that felt the holidays were hard. I love holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas especially! My dad was the heart of every celebration, he had a Santa tie and suspenders for each big festive dinner, which were many. He welcomed anyone and everyone for the holidays and filled the house with his music. They say a soul picks the time they pass on. I can see that my dad chose his. I don’t want to make Thanksgiving and Christmas sad, for that reason alone. I want to celebrate. I want to continue in his spirit, we even tried to cook his stuffing this year. And yet, grief has snuck up on me.

I am learning a lot about respecting our individual gifts; the hardships and trials we face and the emotions and wisdom that are born from them. And so… I am going to try to accept the sorrow, open the door to it, not hide it, I will honor it… and see how it chooses to either linger or move on. I hope like any good houseguest it doesn’t overstay its welcome.

“Grief is like the ocean; it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing.
Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming.
All we can do is learn to swim.”