A Season of Not Okay versus Happy Holidays (Stacey)

Depending on where you live and what you celebrate, if you haven't heard them yet, you likely will soon.  The time of year has come when "Happy Thanksgiving," "Happy Holidays," and "Merry Christmas" seem to bellow from intercoms, commercials, cards, and countless people.  While wrestling with this article, I keep thinking about two things.  First, on Sunday, I'll take diet soda to comfort a friend who's grieving.  Second, I recall a story that began when I was a young child.

A Holiday Morning

One Christmas morning I remember being told an aunt would not be there and I wasn't to ask questions or talk about it.  Honestly, I think sometimes adults forget what holidays are like for us kids in large family get togethers.  Did they seriously think, with siblings, cousins, parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and countless others present, small children would notice, let alone care, that one adult was absent?

The Test

A few weeks later, I was getting ready for school when Dad told me to be extra nice to Mom for a while. After taking a test, the teacher called me to her desk.  I remember my paper. In those days, children used pencils—not even pens—and paper to take tests.  My tears had made my answers illegible.  I told the teacher my aunt who got hurt on Christmas died that morning.  The teacher sent me back to my desk with instructions not to worry about the test or anything else.  She would take care of it.

Pure Silence

Years passed.  I entered the awkward phase some of you college students may recognize—the phase where you're officially an adult yet not completely independent.  You're in school and doing your own thing yet go home for school breaks.  During one of those breaks, a phone call came.  

Dad was out of town.  Mom wasn't home.  The "baby" couldn't do it.  It would have to be me.  Fine, but all had to agree to do it my way.

At that time, smart phones were nonexistent.  Few people owned a computer, let alone had internet at home.  People still relied on pay phones, answering machines, and CB radios.  All we could do was wait for Mom to get home.  We waited.  We were good.  After all, I had instructed them to be extra nice to Mom for a while.

Mom came home to silence.  You parents or caretakers of children know the silence I mean. The silence when the children aren't bickering.  The silence that demands you see what they're really doing.  We made Mom sit in her chair.  All the younger siblings stood around, quietly.  

Okay, breathe, all you parents and caretakers.  I get it now.  Then, I was barely an adult.  How was I supposed to know what pure silence in a house full of siblings does to some people's nerves?

How Do You Tell Someone

Mom knew something was up.  The silence gave us away.  I gently confessed.  Then, all us siblings showered Mom with hugs.  How else do you tell someone her mother is dead?

Christmas Leftovers

Years passed.  The "baby" was now in the awkward phase of college adulthood. Christmas leftovers were still in the fridge when a phone call came.  I heard a familiar voice tell my husband, "Something happened to Mom. '(...)' called an ambulance."  My husband shut the door as he went outside.  

The door opened. The first words were "Is my mom dead?"  Before he answered, I knew.  I remembered the silence.  I remembered years before.  Once the tears subsided, I could recognize what that phone call cost the one sibling and only imagine what it cost the "baby" to be the one to do CPR.

Christmas leftovers spoiled before I could eat.  Who cares about that?  I located a grief support group.  For three months, I found solace in those weekly meetings with others who were walking the same road.

The Final Step

Years have passed.  The "baby" is long since grown and has a career helping others.  Occasionally we talk about that day.  The sadness is gone.  We treasure the happy times.

If you're happy this Thanksgiving and holiday season, I'm happy for you, truly happy.  If you're sad or grieving, please remember: 

It's okay to be sad sometimes. 

It's okay to not be okay for a while. 

What's not okay, though, is to stay that way.

If you are feeling down and need support, please don't hesitate to reach out to us here at Letters Against Depression if you haven't already.  We send letters of hope and support to those who need someone there for them.  You can request to receive letters here.