Surviving Suicide Through the Holidays

With the Holidays fast approaching, and having survived all of the first celebratory events after loosing my son, Jason, to suicide, I feel it is important to address this topic in my series on surviving suicide. Last year at this time, I was still reeling in the throws of grief from the impact of such a tragic and traumatic loss. In fact, I was surviving by rote and wanted no more to face the Holidays than take a trip to the moon. Looking back, I am amazed at all that I did accomplish that first Christmas without Jason.

During the first year following a loved ones death by suicide, those left behind face many emotional obstacles due to the complicated nature of this kind of loss. As I have mentioned in previous articles, the sudden and horrific disposition, coupled with the shame and blame stigma attached to suicide, compounds the enormity of such a loss. Unlike an expected death, the devastation of loosing a loved one in this manner, can be so overwhelming that those grieving are unable to cope with or move beyond the shock of their loss and can only survive from minute to minute and often in a perpetual state of denial.

At every turn there are the constant reminders of a life that was snatched from the world long before it's time and all that remains are memories of a happier day. For those survivors trying to make sense of such an incomprehensible tragedy, moving forward is not an option. For many of the survivors I have come to know since Jason's death by suicide, their pain is so intense that they are certain a part of them died along with their departed loved one. Some of their suffering is so great that years go by without any signs of recovery.

It is in this first year that we are forced to observe first birthdays, anniversaries, Mother's Days, Father's Days, state and national holidays, all manner of religious events and finally the first memorial date of our loved ones passing. It was those first winter holidays, which for me included Thanksgiving and Christmas that I found most difficult to endure.

As Halloween passed without notice, I remember seeing those first adds for Christmas trees and Holiday this that and the other. With winters chill in the air and autumn leaves disappearing in the bitter wind, I became more depressed and resistant to the spirit of the season. It was also around this time that I noticed my family and friends were beginning to focus on the upcoming holidays and starting to make plans. All the while, I was thinking, this is my first Christmas without Jason, and he was supposed to come home for the Holidays. Now, he will never come home again, ever! How can I ever celebrate this or any other Christmas again?

Serendipitously, I heard of a woman, who was holding a grief workshop at a local Catholic church the first weekend in December, 2006. Her focus was on surviving the Holidays while grieving. Reluctantly, I decided to attend and was glad I did. The room was full, and the facilitator was not only extremely compassionate but was also in her second year of grieving the loss of a loved one. A psychologist by trade, she was able to be objectively informative while using therapeutic techniques, and she was also able to share steps she was taking towards her own recovery.

She began by commenting on putting ones grief on hold during the Holidays. No one has the right to dictate how long or in what way a person should grieve, nor should they expect this person to put their grief on hold because of the Holidays. Grief has its own timetable for each person and depending on our individual personalities and coping skills, there is no set time.

The most important point she made, on that chilly December afternoon, was that during the early stages of grief, we are physically as well as emotionally more susceptible to illness. Thus, the stress of the holiday season can augment the risk of stroke, heart attack or any other maladies we may be prone to develop. She emphasized that while it is probably not wise to completely isolate during the Holidays, we should honor our grief and should only participate in gatherings that will cause the least amount of stress.

Another suggestion she offered was to "keep it simple". Since our energy levels are depleted and our emotional states apathetic, the thought of shopping for holiday gifts can be excruciating. One way to simplify holiday shopping is to purchase the same item for everyone on your list. She bought the same inspirational book for everyone on her list that first year after loosing her mom. She also suggested buying something to commemorate our departed loved ones. No one with any sense of compassion expects the newly bereaved to celebrate the Holidays with their normal flare.

I purchased picture frames in which I placed photos of Jason for my parents, and for my sibling's, I bought memorial Christmas tree ornaments. In order for me to keep it simple enough, I didn't bake or send Christmas cards last year. I didn't shop in the malls, and I didn't attend any of the business holiday parties or luncheons. Those who knew me were understanding and supportive. I didn't feel guilty and wasn't apologetic to anyone, because I knew I was doing the best I could.

I did, however, put up a small Christmas tree for Jason, and I spent Christmas morning alone with my four cockatiels and his memory. I played Christmas carols and opened a few gifts I had received from friends. Later that afternoon, I went to my parents and made the best of the day. It was difficult and by the time I left, I was exhausted, but it was good to be with family even under the circumstances.

The most memorable celebration I attended during the 2006 Holiday's, was the Compassionate Friends memorial candle-lighting ceremony in Allentown, Pennsylvania. It was a compellingly beautiful celebration of all of our children whom had passed over. There was music and poetry followed by the lighting of candles by each parent, who then walked up to the podium and spoke their precious deceased child's name. Afterwards, we all gathered together to share our memories and loan support to one another during this difficult time.

In the weeks to come, as I prepare to spend my second Christmas without Jason, I know I will once again spend private time with his spirit and join the other Compassionate Friends in their annual memorial candle-lighting event. This year, however, I will also release some of Jason's remains in a special yet undecided place. I'm also reserving the right to keep things simple this year and for many years to come. That's the best I can do as I continue on this journey to surviving suicide.