Decorating Christmas tree after husband’s death helps SLO County woman deal with grief
I’m determined to not only get through the holidays without an emotional meltdown, but to also make it a joyous time.
It’s not always easy.
This was my first Thanksgiving since my husband Richard died and my first as a woman who doesn’t want to do all this stuff as a single person.
My heart goes out to others enduring the pain of their own recent losses, whether from the coronavirus pandemic, natural disasters or man-made catastrophes and conflicts. Those mourners, too, are dealing with much more than the permanently empty seats at their holiday tables.
I’m doing better, thanks, although it’s been a long year. I’m just not quite there yet, wherever “there” is.
As a down payment on our holiday cheer, we did what lots of folks did over Thanksgiving weekend. We decorated our Christmas tree.
Indeed, it wasn’t easy, but it was something we needed to do — something I needed to do — to help me deal with the emotional whiplash of ongoing grief.
I’m stuck between needing to move ahead into the next chapter of whatever the rest of my life is going to be like without my husband of 44 years, and missing Richard terribly, honoring who he was and never, ever forgetting how much I always will love him.
Adapting is a tricky path. I’m no longer consumed by the situation 24/7, nor able to be “the me” I was before he died.
Facing the holidays without my husband
After so many years with Richard as the cornerstone of our holidays and our lives, the thought of facing the season without him was painfully daunting for all of us.
That Christmas tree was a symbol of the holiday season to come, and constant reminder of happier holidays past.
Decorating it threatened to derail the progress I believed I’d made in dealing with him not being part of it. He was the laughing “tall person” who could hang the ornaments on the upper branches and put the angel on top — or lift a grandchild up to do it.
Our fake tree had been up year-round for a long time, because Richard and Brian loved to see it there in the living room.
During the rest of each year, we changed the decorations to suit the seasons. It’s amazing what a difference some hearts, flags, pumpkins, shamrocks or Easter bunnies can make!
When Richard came home from the hospital in August, the only place where his big, electric medical bed would fit was in the living room.
Right next to the Christmas tree.
Its bright lights and colors became a cheery focal point for him, a happy spot in his days, along with the hummingbirds at the feeder outside the window. Richard loved watching both of them.
The day after he died early last December, the tree’s lights went out.
Coincidence? Maybe.
Since then, I’ve been 100% unable to face redoing the tree by myself, and I absolutely didn’t want to take it down.
So, in light of my happy holidays mindset, I rounded up help from visiting family members Tina, Jesse and Linda. Many hands make light work, and shared recollections propped all of us up a bit. We laughed a lot.
Thanksgiving togetherness and decorating in a group made the emotionally fraught occasion seem more like old times, even though this was a much smaller version of the mob scene it used to be when the kids were little.
Plus, our leader of the mob wasn’t there. Although, when we flipped the switch on the tree lights, maybe he was.
What’s ahead
Now, Richard’s tree is twinkling again, redecorated, dust-free and standing tall near his picture and some other mementos of those magical years we had with him.
Having the tree spruced up doesn’t take away the grief. I don’t think anything ever will, really. But the newly spiffy and seasonal decor helps, in part because it makes me smile, the way it used to make him smile.
I’ll plan my life ahead the way I planned the tree decorating, with as much optimism as I can muster. I’ll seek out laughter wherever I can find it. When emotions plummet, I’ll rely heavily on phone and internet contacts with family and friends.
Every day, I’ll keep adapting to being that single woman while in my heart still being the devoted wife of a beloved man who died way too soon.
And I’ll concentrate on what Richard would expect of me, to keep going with my head up and a smile on my face.
My mantra will be a paragraph from “Option 2,” Sheryl Sandberg’s book about her husband’s sudden death.
Sandberg’s brother-in-law told her this about his brother, her late husband: “Since the day he met you, all he ever wanted was to make you happy. He would want you to be happy — even now. Don’t take that away from him.”
I’m trying, Richard. I’m really trying.
Somehow, it will be a happy holiday season, honey. I promise. I will make it so.
