How to Cope with Holiday Grief

So, I’ve established that holidays can be hard. Now what? Should you hide away? Should you put on your merriest and brightest smile and get yourself out there?

If you are caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s disease or another dementia, you know that each holiday season is different because the disease is a progressive one. You will likely have to navigate your grief differently each year because of that.

About four years into Harvey’s struggle with Alzheimer’s disease, he was quite childlike. It was actually kind of fun if I just leaned into that sense of play instead of dwelling on the loss of the quiet, reflective Harvey of the past.

Everyone has their tree decorating traditions, and in my family of origin, the finishing touch was the hanging of the silver tinsel icicles. As children, we were instructed to gently place one or two icicles at a time on a branch to prevent unwanted clumping. Harvey did not have such perfectionistic parents, and he actually had never had those silver icicles growing up.

Our first Christmas together, Harvey and I received a present packaged in a gift bag, surrounded by tons of gold icicles instead of tissue paper. This was it! We would create our own Christmas tree decorating tradition with this gold tinsel! Only, Harvey wanted to throw it on the tree. Horrors! I somehow convinced him to do it my way, and he reluctantly agreed that it looked much better.

Once our children started to help decorate the tree, you can imagine how they approached the gold icicles. I patiently taught them how to place them, but they always ended up throwing bunches of them at the tree. I caught Harvey doing it once or twice too, and I would quietly rearrange the messy clumps. Think I inherited my parents’ perfectionism much?

Now, back to Harvey at four years into his diagnosis. The weekend after Thanksgiving, we had long time friends visit us from out of town. They suggested we decorate for Christmas even though it was earlier in the season than our family normally decorated. I was a little reluctant, but pulled out all the decorations.

(This story is beginning to sound more like it’s about me and my need for order!)

Anyway, the five of us middle-aged adults had a blast. We shopped for a live tree and wreaths, and our friends used our family’s decorations in new and creative ways to decorate our home  instead of me directing them to place them in my traditional settings.

And you know what’s coming next! Yes, we all joyfully flung that gold tinsel with abandon at the tree! I had learned to let go of my expectations and just play, if that’s what Harvey needed at the time.

Meeting your loved one where they are at the moment is almost always the best course of action.

The last two years of Harvey’s life were hard on our family, as I have described in the previous post. I coped during the holidays by continuing our almost sacred holiday traditions with our daughters. Christmas Eve service at our church, dinner afterwards at our traditional restaurant, early Christmas morning stockings and gift giving, our traditional brunch, then larger family dinners. We also made time for visiting Harvey and his mother in the psychiatric ward or nursing home.

I started a new tradition that year by going to our church’s Longest Night service. Held on a date near the winter solstice, this service honors the grief that many feel, using liturgy, song and spoken messages. It was comforting to be surrounded by other grieving folk, acknowledging each other’s pain.

Looking ahead, I plan to ask my daughters to help me create a new tradition this Christmas to specifically honor Harvey.

It’s most important to be kind to yourself, recognizing that your need for grieving must be met, but the need will probably change over time. Do what feels best and right. It won’t necessarily be what others expect of you, and that’s okay.