Christmas is around the corner. It has been 10 months since Veronica left us; therefore, our most recent memories of her are all around the Christmas and New Year period. We feel her presence everywhere. It would be tempting to hibernate over Christmas until it had passed; however, we live with two grandchildren, so that isn’t possible. We decided to walk towards it rather than avoid it and celebrate it on our own terms.
Veronica loved the sparkle and lights, so these will stay. We had been listening to Christmas songs, and my wife played Toby Mac’s “Christmas Hits Different This Year.” That really resonated, especially as he wrote it as a parent grieving the loss of a child to suicide. We also heard the song “Blue Christmas” by Elvis Presley, and we half-jokingly said, “That’s what we’ll be having—a blue, blue Christmas.” Then I thought, why not go with that?
So, we have chosen a blue theme and decorated the house with blue tinsel and lights. I’m not making light (no pun intended) of our sadness or grief, but we decided that instead of allowing misery to dictate our Christmas, we will find ways of celebrating it that include Veronica and our grief.
We have put little fairy lights around her photo and placed a pale pink (her favorite color) glass angel beside the frame. I didn’t think I could bring myself to do it, but her stocking will go up and perhaps be filled with something special for her siblings—something pretty, sparkly, or fragrant—that was her.
I completely understand people avoiding Christmas celebrations altogether. Our last family photo with V was taken on Christmas day. We will be acutely aware of this when we take another one this year. However, we will still take one because the family that loves her, and the family she loved, is still here. Surprisingly, I have found that tossing some tinsel about has lifted my spirits.
I know there are parents and families across the world who, like us, are wondering what Christmas will be like this year with their loved one absent. Will it mean endurance, escape, or could there be some enjoyment, too? For us, it will be about feeling and expressing the sorrow while embracing the festive time together.
We did not choose this grief, but we can choose how it will be woven into our Christmas in a way that enables threads of joy and love also to be present.
It’s not easy—as the grandchildren decorated the tree, tears glistened along with the tinsel and lights.
I hope all who are suffering the loss of their precious child this Christmas can find a way of holding on, getting through, and experiencing some moments of enjoyment and peace. With our children, love came first, and love remains. It was the greatest gift we gave them—and the greatest gift we received from them.
Our youngest child will not be visible this Christmas, but the love we all have for her will be sparkling and shining in our tears and in our hearts.
