When Sorrow Comes at Christmas

When Sorrow Comes at Christmas is embodied in this black and white photo of a man playing taps on a trumpet in a cemetery at a funeral.

“O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here…”

When Sorrow comes at Christmas time we are often not prepared

Grief seems to have no place in the festive Christmas we imagine for ourselves. It contradicts the joy and excitement we associate with this holiday. When I was three my mother’s young sister slipped into a coma on Christmas Eve and passed away two days later. Santa’s presents under our tree were nearly forgotten that year as our family stumbled through its agony.

Holidays exist to comfort and encourage us; in times of grief we are not here to mindlessly serve traditions. Whether the tragedy is fresh, or the loss is ancient and yet still painful, we deserve to be our true self having the experience we can bear to have.

Grief, like any other deep, authentic emotion, is personal

Sometimes, in connection to the loss of the same person, one soul is seeking to be distracted from pain, while another is finding solace in planning a commemoration, and another is wanting to skip the holiday altogether. All three of these, if genuine, are perfectly reasonable. The hard part is reconciling these in a holiday that is generally communal. If these three examples are simultaneously sharing space in late December, there is the strong likelihood that feelings will be hurt, tempers may flare, and several people might walk away worse for wear in a time when comfort was most needed.

Woman standing alone in grief

Grieving people ought not be judged, even by other grieving people

When the first Christmas without a loved one arrives, even if the loss was nearly a year earlier, it can be surprisingly painful. The family and friends of the bereaved can offer valuable support by letting the holiday unfold as meaningfully as possible in accordance with what those who are grieving can bear to experience. It is not uncommon for people to flail about in fits and starts trying to determine what feels appropriate. Plans often zigzag as people assess what is possible.

The foundation of Christmas is the unpretentious, brave love embodied in a babe laid in an inhospitable manger long ago. A most practical sort of love is called for when grieving amidst the celebration of Christmas. We can give this sort of love to our grieving friends and loved ones by following their lead. We can patiently offer this to those who find their sorrow languishing year after year.  Making space for mourning will not diminish our holiday. Rather, the chance to offer accommodating love enhances our observance of this season.

Though Christmas may be forever altered for some, in time hearts heal, each according to its own inscrutable schedule. Allow yourself, or those who suffer near you, to find the way forward at the pace that is bearable, merging what will comfort each grieving person into as unified a Christmas as possible.

“O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadows put to flight
Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.”

How to Help

Be still and consider who is grieving near you.
Take stock of those who have suffered a loss or who may be grappling with tragedy of any sort.
Draw near with a note, a call, or a visit.
Issue invitations thoughtfully, and accept regrets graciously.
For those who seem to be grieving overly long, offer no critique, only companionable tenderness.
Make space for the grief of others, even allowing your own holiday to be altered, if doing so brings comfort or cheer.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” Matthew 5:4

This post is an excerpt from What the Soul Wants for Christmas: Open Yourself to Fresh Celebrations of the Holidays… and Life!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.