I’m aware I’ve not written since Abi’s birthday, and there’s a reason.

Like last year, I’ve found myself lost in a blur of grief and unable to write at all. It’s almost like there is so much to say that it’s impossible to write clearly. Sometimes I find that life is back in focus and I’m getting on with things, but then I’m reminded – constantly, what with the coming of Christmas and my duty as mum to make sure my other children feel able to ‘get excited’ – that my darling Abi is dead. That she’ll never open another present. That her Christmases are memories to me now.

It slaps me in the face again and again, and sometimes, other people’s words and attitudes slap me too.

I’m not over it.

I don’t feel better.

It’s not about you, it’s about me.

And, yes, Abi’s death has given me every right to act the way I do. I will not feel guilty if that means I can’t do what you want me to. It’s taking all my energy right now just to stay afloat so I don’t need added pressure, thanks.

I want to write blog posts to support other parents, like so many of my blogging friends are doing, but I can’t. I feel the stress building of facing Christmas and equally worse New Year without my daughter. I feel sick. I cry. I see her all the time. I hear her voice more than ever. I sense her near me. I feel panicked and suffocated by my own family, people I love. I crave her like never before…

I find it hard to see the happiness and light on social media, as much as I don’t begrudge anybody that happiness. I’m not sat here wishing it was me or feeling bitter, but it just adds to the mountain of Christmas cheer that is already on my shoulders. In many ways, I learn from my blogging friends about how to make new memories and when I have a good day I put up an extra decoration or eat a mince pie, but I don’t feel up to engaging right now, my grief is too intense.

So I won’t write until I’m ready, which may be a while, although if you’re reading this and you want to contact me, please do so through my Comfort Zone, it’s so good to know I’m not alone.

Instead, I’ll share what I read on other websites, and this post from The Compassionate Friends really caught my eye. It says what I probably would have said in a post about Christmas so I’m sharing the entire thing below, but please link out to their website and take a look.

In the meantime, thank you to everyone who has read my posts this year and has commented with support or shared their own stories. It’s been immensely helpful to me to know I’m not alone.

When your child has died, Christmas can be unbearably difficult. The whole world seems to celebrating, everybody appears to be obsessed with preparations, which seem to go on for weeks.  These confront us at every turn –in shops and streets, on TV, radio, in magazines and on the web and social media. We often feel alienated, isolated by our grief.

As we contemplate Christmas –especially in the early years of our bereavement – we wonder how we will survive. It is normal for parents to feel they just want to ’cancel’ Christmas. It is a time to be with family, and the enormous gap left by the death of our child is intensified. Christmas cannot be the same as it was because our family is not the same – not complete.

If this is the first year, it will be painfully different from previous years. We may find the anticipation and stress of what we ‘should’ be doing very hard to deal with. Do we decorate the tree, send cards, give presents, attend a place of worship, join in the festive meal, go to a family party?

For younger children especially, do we continue with important traditions of trips to the shops, the decorations, a pantomime, and a visit to see Father Christmas? Many bereaved parents find the run up to Christmas – with all the accompanying anticipation– can be more difficult to cope with than the actual day itself.

We hope that some of the ideas below might help and support you as you prepare for the holiday season…

• Don’t allow other people to dictate to you how you should get through this extremely difficult time of year.   Don’t feel you have to go to the office party or festivities with friends/extended family if you can’t cope with them.

• Sometimes we don’t know what we will feel like doing until the last minute. Don’t feel you have to have a plan. Tell people you will decide on the day and you will come if you feel up to it, but may well not be able to.

• Let close friends/family know that you are struggling and need to be able to talk about your child at this important family time.

• Tell people that you need to have your child acknowledged by others at Christmas – to see their name in a Christmas card or to remember them with a toast during the Christmas meal means so much, but many people would be scared of doing this unless you tell them.

• Within the family try to talk to each other, about how you are feeling, or what you all might want to do. Thinking and talking together can help us to prepare ourselves for Christmas, and sometimes when these plans do go right, the day can bring surprising comfort to us.

• If you have young children in the family be aware that they might wish for Christmas to carry on as before – although this can be enormously painful for you, for surviving children the normality of Christmas celebrations can be a comfort.

• For parents who have lost their only child or all of their children, Christmas can be an especially painful, particularly so if there are no grandchildren.  Christmas is generally recognised as a family time and for parents without surviving children this can be extremely hard to bear. For such parents it can be difficult being with other families at Christmas and yet the alternative – being alone – can be equally hard to bear. Whatever these parents choose to do, it is vital that their child or children are remembered.

• Some people don’t send cards at Christmas any more. Others like to include their child’s name – for example  – “Love from X x and x and always remembering xx”.  You can also ask others to include a similar sentiment on any cards they send you.  A small gesture which can really lift our hearts.

• Don’t put too much stress on yourself. If there are difficult relations who expect to visit or for you to visit them,  just say you can’t do it this year if it’s going to make you feel worse.  Or introduce a time limit – “We’ll come over for a quick drink but will only stay an hour.”

• Develop a Christmas ritual involving your child – attend a candle lighting service with other bereaved parents; spend time at a special memorial place on your own or with others;  make or buy a special card or decoration for your child.

• Spend time with people who understand. Avoid those who don’t.

• On the day itself, make time for yourself to escape if things are too much. A walk outside can really help ease tensions.  Or take yourself off for a long warm bath.

• If you can’t cope with the idea of Christmas at all, go away and do something completely different. (Be aware, though, that sometimes being away from supportive friends or family can be more difficult and the jollity of strangers may be painful).

• Volunteer for a charity helping the homeless or elderly over Christmas.  This can be some small distraction and you are doing good too.

• Try to take some gentle exercise every day  – really helps boost those much needed endorphins.

• Be aware that the New Year celebrations can also be difficult. The coming of a new year can feel like we are moving ‘further away’ from our child and the celebrations of others, wishing us a ‘Happy New Year’, can intensify our yearning and grief. We can feel isolated from the celebrations and happiness of others. Acknowledge these feelings to yourself and others close to you, and perhaps plan the evening of December 31^st – whether that is to be alone, or with close, understanding friends who will allow you to be yourself and remember your child at this poignant time of year.

After the death of our child, the Christmas holidays will have shadow, a yearning for what might have been, an added poignancy. However, we do survive these days, difficult as they are. What matters is that, as far as possible, you are able to do whatever feels right for you, and eventually be able to carry the loving memory of your child with you into future Christmas-times.

 The Compassionate Friends National Helpline will be open during the Christmas period

0845 123 2304

(10 am – 4 pm, 7 pm- 10 pm every day).

The following Helplines are also open:

Child Death Helpline: 0800 282 986

Child Bereavement UK Support and Information Line:
0800 02 888 40

Samaritans: 08457 90 90 90

 

 

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