Amidst Holiday Heartache, Be Led to What Feels Warm — #2
A thoughtful survival kit of 10 things we did over the holiday season to acknowledge our grief, while avoiding being swallowed up by it.
Overwhelm, avoidance, confusion and trepidation have ruled the special days of 2022 for Ryan and I, all spent without Leo for the first time.
Given our year of practice—navigating our birthdays, Leo’s birthday, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving, as well as the lead-up to the actual days of revered celebration—we felt astonishingly prepared to handle this year’s holiday season.
My intention for this week’s newsletter was to share a beautiful lesson I learned through experiences I had in Sedona earlier this month. But halfway through writing it, whilst enduring our broken-hearted holiday weekend, I felt it could wait. I’ll never have another “first Christmas as a bereaved parent,” and figured tapping into our survival kit in real-time could be beneficial for others experiencing any sort of grief, heartache or general sadness around a special day in the future.
Disclaimer: I am not a therapist—but do highly recommend working with one! I’m simply passing along nuggets that have helped my husband and I survive the tough times experienced over our past few years raising and grieving our son.
The overall theme going into December was allowing ourselves to be led to what feels warm. My therapist first taught me this technique in reference to relationships, but Ryan and I have since used it regularly as an invaluable decision-making tool. Basically, it’s a gauge in trusting your heart and following your intuition. At first, a year and a half ago, the warmth was more metaphorical—but now, after practicing regularly, I feel a palpable warm, coziness in my heart when using this method to help make certain choices.
With this in mind, I’ve compiled 10 things we did over the holiday season to acknowledge our grief, but not be swallowed up by it. Many, if not all, were also used while navigating the less-obvious, personally special days throughout our year of grieving—and will remain as go-to’s for inevitable tough days to come.
1) Let go of expectations
It may sound depressing to encourage setting a low bar, but to us it’s been freeing. Allowing ourselves to experience holidays with an open mind, versus forcing traditions simply for the sake of tradition, fuels authenticity and leaves room for opportunity. Traditions can be beautiful, but they’re also a bit of a luxury and privilege that can project rigid, assumed expectations.
Ryan and I had our first three dates over the week after Christmas of 2007. We met up after work—waiting tables for me and delivering pizzas for him—on the day after Christmas and again New Year’s Eve, and watched the Green Bay Packers vs the Detroit Lions at a typical Wisconsin collegetown sport’s bar on the Sunday in between. The following year, we were living together, starting our own traditions: finding the perfect Christmas ornament to gift each other, decorating our janky, one-bedroom apartment with tinsel garland and a small tree, and making cookie platters for coworkers, friends and family. Over the years, these traditions grew. Instead of buying ornaments for each other; together, we chose the perfect ornament for Leo. We would spend an entire weekend making sourdough cardamom rolls, in addition to cookie platters for loved ones—which now included Leo’s therapists, chiropractors and acupuncturists, as well as our neighbors. We also decorated our home with an abundance of accumulated decor with my Grandma Bobbie’s touch of homey-yet-explosion of Christmas in mind. It was always a lot, but it brought us great joy.
In December of 2021, Leo was experiencing health issues that could only be explained by his genetic disorder simply catching up with him. In the moment, and per doctor advisement, we were entering a new normal for Leo that involved more care and some rougher days. It was a heartbreaking struggle for us to adapt. We didn’t have the bandwidth to do much more than pick out a beautiful 9-foot Colorado long pole pine Christmas tree, together as a family. Loosening our grip on our traditions—opting to not even decorate the perfectly symmetrical tree, standing tall in our living room—was alarming to some. We were urged to “give in to the Christmas spirit to brighten our days.”
Rather than spending precious time decorating, baking, and honoring our traditional norms; we seized the days and times that Leo felt well, winter hiking and walking through neighborhood Christmas light displays. Unbeknownst to us, his medical team and everyone who knew and loved him, this was Leo’s last Christmas—and our last Christmas as his parents. Loosening the grip on the pressures of tradition made our last Christmas together more special than ever.
2) Feel your feelings
Grieving a loved one, or experiencing emotional struggle during any holiday, often feels isolating. For me, getting through Mother’s Day and what would have been Leo’s 8th Birthday in the same weekend, set the tone of how I hope to cope during beloved family holidays going forward. Allowing myself to feel the gambit of harsh emotions—anguish, rage, longing, jealousy and utter hopelessness—allowed me to move through and actually experience joy, wonder, awe and overwhelming amounts of love. Had I forced myself to unnaturally celebrate these days, banishing the “negative” emotions, I doubt I would have been able to experience beauty at all.
Going into the winter holiday season, our goal was to find the middle as much as possible. In early December, we committed to an “uncelebratory” season to limit toxic positivity and faux joy, with hopes of it also preventing out-of-our-norm excessive depression.
As much as I wanted to avoid the Grinchy “fuck Christmas and everyone who gets to celebrate with their healthy children who are alive” mixture of jealousy, resentment and self-pity-fueled-rage, it did creep in at moments. And rather than quickly shaming myself, I squeamishly sat with it. These valid feelings were likely triggered from the real sense of unfairness, (why did we have to lose our son when others get to celebrate long lives with theirs?), as well as self-compassion for ourselves the past Christmas—where we were unknowingly witnessing our son actively dying, while sitting next to an undecorated Christmas tree. Overall, these specific feelings came and went rather quickly, leaving us mostly with a hallowed sense of sadness and general weirdness of the holidays just not being the same without Leo.
After a spontaneous Christmas Day trip to the coast, laughter and genuine joy were surprisingly felt when arriving at Ecola State Park in the middle of high winds and rain coming off the Pacific Ocean at high tide. The weather was clear at Cannon Beach when we rushed out of Portland, but we have yet to understand how quickly conditions can change. Feeling the wind whip our rain jackets, as the chaotic waves crashed against the sea stack rock formations, and misty rain pelted us from all directions, we took it all in with grins on our faces—grabbing a quick selfie as documentation. Joy used to feel wrong and contradictory amidst our grief; however, now exists as an opportunity for thoughtful rebellion and honor-filled reminder of what our life was with Leo.
3) Connect with those who may also be struggling
Ryan lost his job the week before Thanksgiving in 2018, thanks to a company buy-out where 80% of his coworkers were simply let go. We were in the midst of planning our bombshell move from Wisconsin to Colorado, and the elimination of Ryan’s solid job, that he could work from anywhere, completely pulled the rug out from under plan. Not only that, but I was only working part-time and making $15/hour. My monthly earnings, combined with Ryan’s unemployment checks, barely covered our bills through the months of November through January.
While we kept our spirits high and held out hope that something better would come along, eventually making the disrupting chain of events make sense—spoiler, it did!—we were deeply devastated, scared and overwhelmed. Most of all, we felt isolated from those celebrating the holidays as usual. When I think back, if we would have connected with others struggling in some way, in the light of seeing and hearing each other's situations for what they were, it would have likely put our hearts at ease. As it’s awfully lonely going through a rough time, when seemingly everyone around you is full of joyous holiday Christmas spirit. Nobody wants to be the Debbie Downer.
This year I spent extra time connecting over MarcoPolo video chat throughout the holiday weekend with two dear friends who were also experiencing a less-than-awesome time. Being there for one of my best friends, whose husband was just diagnosed with colon cancer and is on the calendar for a miracle surgery a week after Christmas, was a true honor. An honor I was grateful to return, as she’s been there for me this past year through the ugliest parts of my grief. Checking in on another friend I hadn’t spoken with in months, I found out she was celebrating the entire weekend all alone. It was beautiful and uplifting to catch up throughout our mutually sad holiday weekends, with multiple messages of love and laughter back and forth.
The conversations with my friends were full of the real and raw—including tears, laughter and sprinkles of justified snark that come without judgement—and devoid of commiseration, which is the key to genuine loving support.
4) Prioritize yourself, knowing you may disappoint others
Over the recent past, I’ve realized my toxic tendency to shudder at the thought of disappointing others, usually at the cost of disappointing myself. It’s a common thing for us (recovering) people-pleasers.
A priority and challenge for myself this holiday season was to avoid likely and potential triggers, which comes uniquely (but non-exclusively) to bereaved parents. In the case of our only child passing, we’ve been unnaturally plunged into early empty-nester-hood. And, in this cruel reality, the last thing I want to see is the beauty of Christmas through the eyes of a child. I’m not ashamed to admit I avoided the holiday content of my good friends from social media like the plague, and chose to leave holiday photo cards unopened until we made it through to December 26th. In some cases, I even muted Instagram accounts of friends with young children, in efforts of placing added boundaries around my heart. In the moment I felt like a jerk, placing loved ones on mute, but it was worth it. The day after Christmas, I was able to mindfully and happily see my friends’ kiddos enjoying their family time and gifts from Santa Claus.
This avoidance was key for our mental health and absolutely not personal; however, some may not understand. Being okay with potential disappointment was a worthwhile risk.
5) Proactively prepare
After planning for months to spend the long holiday weekend in Bend, OR, two days before leaving, I woke overnight in a panic with a full-body feeling that we should just stay home. There were only so many hours we could spend out hiking, and as we joyously partook in Colorado the past few years, families of hikers would likely be celebrating out on the trails. The adorable downtown would be covered in colorful lights, which were Leo’s favorite part about Christmas. The comforts of home would be 200 miles away, and all of a sudden the trip felt like a terrible idea and a waste of money.
A cozy Hygge-inspired weekend, overly-planned for extra downtime, was the right choice. We each had a new book to read, an educational self-paced class to work on, watercolor painting materials for him and tapestry weaving materials for me, crossword puzzles, writing projects, photos taken on adventures from the past six months to upload and review, and of course HBOmax and Netflix.
We were good to go for the four day weekend, and honestly probably a whole month off, knowing there would be necessary time for rest as well as time to busy our minds. More is more with the intention of no pressure to do it all. The week prior to Christmas, we researched “Best of” Netflix and HBOmax lists for new shows to lose ourselves in and binge through. Settling on Wednesday on Netflix and Enlightened on HBOmax ended up being the perfect combination of series to bring mystery and comedy into our un-celebratory weekend. Proactively choosing these shows and activities ahead of time allowed us to avoid the annoyance of in the moment decision-making overwhelm.
6) Escape into the outdoors
Taking advantage of the opportunity to breathe in fresh air always helps. Whether it’s a long walk on the beach, a hike in the mountains that involves sure-footedness, or even a short blustery walk to the mailbox in snow and sub-zero temperatures—nature has heart-healing powers.
7) Limit traditions
Sometimes holding a tradition or two can feel grounding and bring warmth to a holiday, even when, especially when, you’re going through a tough time. Keeping ourselves open on our limited planned traditions helped us let go of one, while staying true to another this year.
Our favorite family holiday tradition is our annual Work From Home Christmas Party. Ryan and I have been working from home since Leo was born, and started this beloved annual event in 2015. What began in Wisconsin as a festive, pot-luck-style spread to be snacked on at our leisure on the Friday a week before Christmas, turned into all-out events including hikes where we donned our ugly Christmas sweaters after moving to Colorado.
I scored the mother-load at Goodwill in 2016, snagging my vintage red sweatshirt displaying a festive white kitten swinging from a Christmas ornament, and Ryan’s epicly gaudy handmade white poinsettia and glitter puffy-paint decorated shirt, which almost 10 years later still has the faint smell of menthol cigarette smoke embedded in it. We have worn these every year since, paired with Leo in something cute and jovial. Leo and I never stood a chance at beating Ryan’s forever-champion-worthy beautiful festive disaster, making it more hilarious each year.
This was the one tradition we stuck with in 2022, even with everything looking and feeling drastically different. The Friday a week before Christmas, we threw on our ugly sweaters and made the short trip out to the coast. We grabbed some fresh halibut and chips as takeout to enjoy at an oceanside lookout, then took a 3-mile sunset stroll along our favorite beach—stopping over and over to write Leo’s name in the sand. On our drive home we enjoyed hot elderberry tea from our packed thermos. While there were tears many times throughout the afternoon, it was more beautiful than anything else.
As far as the scrapped tradition: the adorable 36” tree I grabbed on a whim from Whole Foods—with the heartwarming thought of covering it in lights and a DIY tree-topper star using a photo of Leo—remained undecorated for weeks. In a moment of holiday disgust, it was moved from beside the fireplace to our balcony. At least the hummingbirds seem to really enjoy it.
8) Treat Yourself
I used to think treating ourselves was the time to allow eating the rich, decadent, unhealthy foods and drinks not included in our usual diets. This year has encouraged a shift in perspective, viewing treating ourselves as an opportunity to splurge on decadence just as much as goodness to nurture our bodies.
Splurging on treats from the fine cheese and cracker aisle has been balanced with buying the pre-made organic smoothies I generally view as a waste of money, as I could easily just make them at home. The thing is, when we’re down in the dumps, easy things become too much effort to bother with. Remembering to also treat ourselves to convenience and healthy goodies always makes us feel better in the long run.
9) Do something that helps others
Doing good always feels good. Paying it forward or leaving an extra-generous tip for a service worker is a sure-fire mood booster for me. If you’re grieving someone, making a donation to a specific charity in their honor will likely bring warmth to your heart. Other options are volunteering your time or pet-sitting for a friend or neighbor.
This year, like most of the US, we got hit with unseasonably low temperatures and an ice storm on the day before Christmas Eve, with the cold continuing through Christmas Day. One of the species of hummingbirds stays year-round in Portland, so we took extra care in ensuring their feeder stayed full of thawed sugar nectar. We could feel their gratitude when returning it outdoors, allowing the near-frozen food to warm up by our fireplace every couple hours. Bringing their food in at night also forced us to get out of bed early in the mornings. Caring extra for our sweet little feathered friends ended up being a happy holiday memory and an easy act of love.
10) If grieving, gently connect yourself to who you’re missing
With Leo being the center of our life over the past nine years, we’ve found keeping him present in our current life to be a cathartic cornerstone of our healing. We’re not moving on—we’re moving forward with him, front and center, in our hearts.
While we always feel closest to Leo out in nature, we’ve found having a sacred space in our home to be tremendously beneficial. Before we moved from our home in Fort Collins, CO, we thoughtfully transformed a corner of Leo’s bedroom into a reading and writing nook. A thorough write-up on the process can be read here.
In our Portland home we have a space we’ve begun to simply call “Leo’s room.” Our den receives more natural light than all other rooms, especially in the morning. It’s decorated with many of Leo’s things, as well as photos and art that bring us back to the best days of our lives adventuring with him. Additionally, I have my writing desk (where I happen to be sitting right now) and a comfy faux leather loveseat. I look forward to sharing more details of this special space in a future newsletter.
While we didn’t feel up for the pain of looking through pictures from past holidays, we found ourselves sitting in Leo’s room with the Pandora Radio Coffee House station playing in the background. Reading, doing crossword puzzles, and catching up with friends, while sipping on coffee and tea in his room, gave us a warm and tender way of keeping him close.
Bonus: Focus on saying “hello” to the New Year rather than “goodbye”
Moving through the blur of days between Christmas and the remainder of the year, Ryan and I have found ourselves struggling more than usual with anxiety and general overwhelm. The realization of finality in 2022 coming to an end, also includes the finality of the last year Leo existed in physical form with us.
Seeing others share their year-in-review compilations of highs and lows, with “peace out 2022, thanks for the memories!” has brought a mix of sadness, nostalgia, gratitude, and longing spiked with heart-piercing anguish. I’ve thought about making my own version, referencing all the stunning places we’ve traveled during our year of grief—especially considering it is quite an impressive list. Or maybe a cool kayaking reel of all the beautiful lakes we topped with our tears as we “cry-aked” in 2022.
Alas, an Irish exit, avoiding any more sad goodbyes in 2022, feels like the warmest option. We can look forward to saying hello to 2023 without necessarily acknowledging leaving anything behind.
Cheers to a happy and healthy New Year, hopefully full of being led to what feels warm!
Amidst Holiday Heartache, Be Led to What Feels Warm — #2
Beautiful. Thank you for sharing your joy and pain Lewann. I laughed and cried. I know so many who need these words. I hope you'll repost this one next year as well for those who need it. <3
Lewann, sending you 🧡🧡🧡! Thank you for taking us on your journey. As someone who's yet to experience any significant loss, I cannot imagine how tough and hurting it has been for you. Yet I feel so much love and light through your words, especially how you look after your hummingbird friends. Wishing you much love and light in 2023. ☀️
(P.S. Omg Ryan's Christmas sweater! I choked on my coffee when I saw it! 😂)