New Traditions

"You've got to know when to hold 'em

Know when to fold 'em" ~ Kenny Rogers

I lifted the plastic lid with the same cautious anticipation I would imagine one might use to disarm an explosive device. It was less than four months after my husband had died. I was standing in our attic hovering over one of the many ominous red and green Rubbermaid containers that had once brought so much joy, but now seemed to be taunting me.

Those festive storage containers had now come to represent such unthinkable pain and uncertainty. The contents of each one of the boxes had become menacing triggers that reminded me of the happiness of previous holiday seasons. The happiness that was now evading me.

Despite a gasping inhale, I instantly felt all my breath leave my body. I wasn’t just short of breath; I was solidly in a moment where the wind had been knocked out of me in a punch-to-the-gut kind of way, and staying on my feet took significant effort.

I stared down at a red and green embroidered Christmas stocking that was looking back at me with three glaring letters…D-A-D.

Surrendering to this moment, I dropped the lid and even more quickly dropped to my knees. I was grateful for the solitude of our attic and the opportunity it allowed for me to collapse without witnesses or judgement.

My newfound resilience was a point of pride for me. Getting through a funeral, learning how to set three plates at the table, I had done it, but three stockings for Christmas? Insurmountable. Nope. Too much. Not happening.

It took a moment to collect my thoughts and gather my composure. I went downstairs and resolutely announced to my boys that we were skipping the Christmas stockings that year. I gulped audibly and awaited their responses. They looked back at me with knowing eyes and agreed that it just made sense to forgo a tradition that would remind us so solidly of our loss.

Months after surviving our first Christmas without Chris, the three of us were enjoying dinner at a favorite local restaurant while listening to some live country music. At the time, we were wearing the cowboy boots that we had purchased on a family trip to Nashville two summers before. We were reminiscing and recalling the laughs we shared on that trip, our last as a family of four.

I noticed that as we spoke of that long weekend getaway, we did so with pure happiness and joy, as opposed to sadness or grief. We were filled with gratitude as we warmly recalled our shared adventures from that vacation. We fondly remembered how we had each successfully found the perfect pair of cowboy boots to bring home. As we basked in the warmth of those cherished memories, a new tradition was born.

We decided together that Christmas stockings were simply too painful for us. We wanted to leave those happy Christmas morning remembrances of opening stockings as a family in our shared memory vault. We had no desire to try to reshape or recreate them. In that moment, we decided that Santa would be more than happy to fill the cowboy boots we would now be leaving in front of the fireplace. We laughed and surmised that when traveling to our house, Santa might swap Rudolph and his fuzzy red hat for a steed and a Stetson.

This year on Christmas morning, we opened the gifts that had been stuffed into the cowboy boots which we had aptly positioned in front of the fireplace. We chose to create a new tradition together, and more importantly, we made new memories.

Despite the pain that surfaced with Christmas stockings, we have learned that we do not need to give up all of our previous traditions. In fact, we have consciously decided that we wanted to keep some of our cherished rituals. We still enjoy our chocolate advent calendars each evening in December and love our Christmas morning pajamas. We still watch Elf and Christmas Vacation after feasting on beef tenderloin on Christmas evening as we have every year. At my boys’ request, we still take turns opening one gift at a time, allowing us to watch the recipient’s reaction and appreciate the thought that went into the selection of each item, a tradition that was of paramount importance to Chris.

In no way are we trying to forget or erase our past, but rather we look toward our future and find new ways to live and laugh with those we love. Our grief has taught us many poignant lessons. We have learned that there are some traditions, destinations, and events from the past that we want to salvage and others that we need to leave behind as cherished memories of days gone by. The ability to make these choices is all part of reclaiming joy.

Empowered to Decide

In the early days of our grief, in addition to forgoing some traditions, we also selected new restaurants and different vacation destinations in an effort to avoid the pain triggered by returning to places that we had adored so much with Chris.

Over time we have come to recognize that as we heal, we can revisit some traditions or destinations of the past and try them out again. We have discovered newfound joy in some of those places and have come to recognize that they provide comforting memories of our time together. In other instances, we’ve conceded that the pain is still too raw, and those particular places or experiences need to be left in the past.

If you are dealing with a significant loss, a death, a divorce, an illness, amongst other tribulations, please recognize that you are empowered to decide what you keep and what you leave.

These decisions are not finite, and you can change your mind along the way. Most importantly, give yourself the grace to do whatever feels right. Allow yourself to contemplate forgoing past traditions or significant locations, modifying them in a way that works given your changed circumstances, or keeping them exactly the same as they had been and relishing in the cherished memories of the past.

Ultimately, you likely had little influence over your loss and the consequent pain, but you get to choose how to proceed. Let this be an emboldening and enabling part of your journey. You have the power to analyze significant elements of your life and decide to keep things the same, shift them slightly, or eliminate them completely. This is your process, it is your progression, and you get to make the decisions…and there are no wrong choices.

Love and Light,

The Unwavering Widow