Submitted by Ethan (Cana’s dad)
As a loss parent, the holiday season seems to bring a hurricane of emotional turmoil each and every year. In what should be a season of hope and joy, the bells you used to hear now ring empty. Returning to nostalgic holiday traditions, music, and movies is like looking through a nightmarish kaleidoscope, where old favorites now take on new twisted themes and meanings.
Christmas songs about longing to be reunited with a loved one become painfully relevant after child loss: “Please Come Home for Christmas.” “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home).” “All I Want for Christmas is You.” The list goes on and on, and you now hear every song differently. It no longer feels like “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” though that throw-away line about “scary ghost stories” finally seems fitting. You feel like you’ve become a ghost yourself. People who know of your loss seem to tremble as you walk by, though they hope you don’t notice. You’re truly a specter to them: the Ghost of Christmas “I can’t even imagine…” You’re a walking, talking reminder of the grim reality that children can, in fact, die. Without warning, reason, or explanation. Jacob Marley’s iron chains and frightening dental work have nothing on you, and the terror that you now seem to bring certain people.
After two holiday seasons without my firstborn daughter, I’ve found that one of the most isolating parts of this lifelong grief is the feeling that she’s been forgotten. That people are afraid to talk about her. That it’s easier for them to pretend she never even existed. Any loss parent will tell you that the silence surrounding their child’s death is far more insidious than you think; even the simplest acknowledgement of their child’s life can make a world of difference, especially during the holidays. This year, give the gift of being a listening ear, even if it’s just a humble acknowledgment that you don’t know what to say. I promise you that authentic, honest compassion is the best gift that you can offer a loss parent, at any time of year. In our darkest moments, your presence and willingness to listen is a simple yet priceless gift.