With the arrival of the holiday season, many bereaved parents approach the upcoming days of "good cheer" with trepidation. How will we get through it? How can anyone expect it to be the same for us?
After each December begins, I note the current deaths of children with a stabbing sorrow. Yet, I am relieved because our bereavement did not include our child's death during the holidays. I would be interested to know what coping skills helped those other parents on holiday observations subsequent to their child's death.
We were intensely anxious about the first holiday season after our son died. My brother announced that we would have Christmas Eve at our house, not theirs, and that we would face the family gathering head on. I thought he must be either crazy or insensitive, but agreed because I didn't have the energy to argue. They told me that I could fix the main dish, and that they would bring everything else to our house.
Although I've seldom given my "little" brother credit for being right, he was. It was something to get through, and the sooner we did, the better. My sister-in-law mentioned our son often in her comments such as "he wouldn't eat green beans," or "remember when he held a bow on his head and said he was gifted? It was such a relief to continue to make our son part of the tradition, and the memories were a comfort. The second year was not much better than the first, but we had a tradition started which was that of remembering our son on holidays past. It actually took seven years before we noticed that the pain was not renewed during the holidays.
The secret of the holidays, although it is not a cure from grief, has been to remember and talk about our son during every celebration. It seems trite to say Happy Holidays, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, but happiness and merriment are relative. Bereaved parents can do their best and remember their child's special gift of his or her life in their families.
Every life, no matter how short, endures as long as it is remembered.
That Once Occupied Space
The vacant chair at the table is not empty, nor is the vacant space around the Christmas Tree, the omission in family pictures, the date on the calendar that was always marked as a birthday. Those spaces are filled with memories, longing, and perhaps even regret. Most of all, however, they are filled with love. There is comfort because the space will always be there, with love, delightful memories, and great appreciation for the short life that was once in those spaces.
The title of this blog is the name of an old song that was written at the beginning of the Civil War. The Vacant Chair, written by George F. Root in 1861 can be found on the website "Civil War Talk."
We shall meet but we shall miss him. — There will be one vacant chair. — We shall linger to caress him —While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
When one year ago we gathered, — Joy was in his mild blue eye. — Now the golden cord is severed, — And our hopes in ruin lie.
CHORUS:
We shall meet, but we shall miss him. — There will be one vacant chair. — We shall linger to caress him — While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.
Verses two and three are also included on the site listed above, and they refer to the death of a young man on the battle field. You can search YouTube to find recordings of the song with its common melody. The most clearly and beautifully simple version is this Tennessee Ernie Ford rendition.