Grief Toolbox

Fear, insecurity, unsafe feelings and navigating unknown territory sound like emotions you can never feel until you feel them. This potpourri of emotions can occur with any type of loss: a job, a romantic relationship, a scorned friendship, bad news, bad life, a severed limb. Losing someone you love to death, whether expected or scathing shock, is a loss like no other. The severity of your devastation is based on your closeness to the lost loved one. Though we all know death is a fact of life, we also never expect to lose someone we deeply love. We may think of how torturous life would be like without that someone, but you don't know torture until you're on the tortured end.

With the holidays here and in my face every time I leave the house, I am reminded of how much my brother loves the holidays and how he's not here to inhale all the happy visuals showering us on the radio or in the streets. I, for one, am managing. Everyday I reach for Charley. I put up his Christmas house lights that hang as beautiful ice blue icicles and border his loving home with the look of peace and festivity. Bright red poinsettias adorn his windows with Firefighter Nutcrackers guarding intruders and welcoming smiles. A tree was purchased tonight for Mia, and while I'm so excited to decorate it, I'm also deeply saddened by the reminder of his picture from last year on Facebook.

Invitations are trickling in for gift exchanges and luncheons as are inquiries regarding what my family and I are doing for the holidays. Funny thing though, no one has really wished us a "Happy" anything. Which I appropriately appreciate- we're not happy nor are we merry or jolly or festive. We just are. I move through each day with an incredibly heavy heart and Mia as my visual guide who encourages me to love...even if it's literally one day at a time. I'm here, so I must be living.

So in search of any guiding force, I've come across an array of tools and suggestions on how to smartly combat the damned holidays. While I am no Scrooge, I'm definitely not sure how I feel about brightly colored ornaments, Rudolph or The Meaning. One thing I have begun to explore, is God. I think of Him everyday with curious thoughts in my mind and the drive to have faith. I want to be the person who tells me to, "Find peace and comfort in knowing Charley is no longer suffering and is free form his restraints here on Earth". I want so badly to be on the giving end of that faith and sure confidence. One thing I'm 100% sure about: there is a God. You may call him Allah, Buddha, The Almighty or simply Our Creator, but he exists in all of us. And he proves that we are not alone. And alone is not something a grieving person should have to do during the holidays. Below is a "Bill of Rights" and how I/we/anyone) has/have a right to do:

• To feel what you feel and be politely honest with others about it. If you do not feel merry, cheerful or otherwise, festive then say no
• The right to not share your feelings if you would rather. "I'm fine" is okay to say
• To not go to parties or family gatherings where your loved one and your grief are not welcome
• To take time for yourself, whether this is a walk alone, a day in bed or some other momentary escape
• To cry when it hurts, laugh when something is funny and to smile when you're happy and not feel guilty about any of it
• To have your loved one remembered in a way that is meaningful to you
• To change your mind over and over again during any get together, event or party. You may not know what you can or can't handle until faced with it.
• To change traditions when necessary or desired. Traditions are supposed to bring comfort, not distress
• To enjoy your holidays. It doesn't mean that you've forgotten or are being disrespectful. Loving life is a wonderful way to remember your loved one.
• To try again next year if this year it doesn't turn out the way you comfortably feel

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