One of my friends recently had a very close family member pass away unexpectedly. It was especially difficult because the family member had only been back in my friend’s life for a few years. How my heart grieves with her.
I thought back to when close family members of mine—in my case, my parents—passed away, one at a time, many years apart. Though I wasn’t close to either of them, it was still excruciatingly difficult. The weeks and months dragged by until <Boom>, the first Thanksgiving and Christmas plopped themselves in my house and refused to leave.
After weeks of crying and remembering, my pain was so locked up that I felt numb during those first holidays they were gone. I did ponder holiday memories.
When I was six or seven, we went across state lines to visit my grandma for a few days. We were surprised to find everything covered with deep snow when we returned (we lived in Texas). The drain pipe was encased in ice and stuck to the house and there were big, dripping icicles hanging from the roof. I learned about weather surprises.
Many years later, my dad got laid off from his first job after military retirement, and I had just started work as a part-time receptionist. I was the only one who bought any Christmas gifts that year. That year, I learned the joy of giving without expecting anything in return.
When I later found out that the first two years of bereavement are the worst, I was jolted into reality. The first year, because you miss them, and you dwell on the memories, good or bad. The second, because they’re really gone and your brain is reluctantly acknowledging that they’re not coming back.
Their loss is the empty spot in your holiday.
That gaping hole is hard to look into, but if you peer into it long enough, you’ll find healing and hope. They come through gradually filling that hole.
There are at least seven ways to gently fill that spot.
Fill the empty spot with your tears for as long as you want. My goodness, please cry. You don’t need to be strong for anyone, not even yourself. You lost someone important to you, and you’re hurting.
Even if you weren’t close, they played some part in your upbringing and/or current life experience. When you lose someone, you’re supposed to hurt, and losses call for crying. And you don’t need understanding or permission from anyone to grieve and cry over your loved one being gone.
Fill in your empty spot with lots of memories. Even with all the bad that occurred, there must have been something good that happened.
Savor the memories, good or bittersweet. Process, process, process, by journaling. Also, talk with current friends and family about your memories. Those who were also close to your departed one will understand.
Fill in the empty spot by saying their name out loud. Many talk to their deceased as though they were still alive. Sometimes it feels like praying. It’s a way of easing the sorrow and feeling them close to your heart.
Those around the grieving are sometimes afraid to say the loved one’s name. They don’t know how to help the grieving, and they’re afraid of having to face raw, loud, painful grief.
Don’t be afraid to say their name, whether you’re the one grieving or the one standing next to the one grieving. It will be a relief, like now there’s permission to speak about the departed.
It’s better to not say anything, and to just be with them and listen. For an enlightening list of things NOT to tell someone who’s grieving, click here: https://www.ministrymatters.com/all/entry/5552/10-things-you-should-never-say-to-a-grieving-person
Fill the empty spot with a physical memorial in your home, if you can handle it. Now, that may be too painful for some. I was able to save certain things from my dad and mom and have it in my room with me, but now, it’s too hard.
Some have the ashes of their family members in an urn in their home, or made into a glass pendant to wear. Others gently finger family photographs sitting around the house. If you can handle physical reminders of their existence, do it.
The acknowledgement that time going on changes things is another way to fill the empty spot. The “everydayness” and relentlessness of time causes some memories to get fuzzy and priorities to reemerge. This, too, shall pass.
Many feel that, because they’re not wailing as long, loud, or often, that they’re showing disrespect to the deceased. It’s not a betrayal or loss of loyalty to dry your tears, hang your head at the emotional graveside, and slowly move on with an “I’ll see you later” when you’re ready.
Would your loved one have wanted you to stay stuck, wailing and hurting over a reality that will never change? Most likely, no.
God created time so that all bad things, not just all good things, would come to an end. And we need the reality check of facing our own mortality to humble us and get us to turn to Jesus before it’s our turn to slip into eternity. Click To TweetDear friend, time does not “heal all things;” God does. He created time so that all bad things, not just all good things, would come to an end. And we need the reality check of facing our own mortality to humble us and get us to turn to Jesus before it’s our turn to slip into eternity.
You can fill the empty spot with plans for the future. When you can make plans, even while missing them, it’s a sign that you have hope despite your pain.
Finally, you can fill the empty spot by missing them. The hole looks empty, but it’s actually filled by your invisible, but strong, love for them. The positive impact they had on you continues in your life today, and it’s the reason you miss them. Your missing them is another memorial, but this one’s in your heart and will never be removed.
You probably won’t ever stop missing them, and that’s okay. There may be a time when you don’t think of them as often.
You’ll be okay. Just move slowly through this holiday, my friend.
