It’s just that time of year. While everyone is buying their holiday presents, decorating their homes, and planning holiday parties, my friend Beth is caught in her annual slump. It is winter; it might be chilly outside with a hint of snow in the forecast, but Beth has her own emotional barometer. She is getting ready to once again mourn the too-soon death of her beloved father. Despite the abundance of cheer, the winter holidays are always a season of sadness for Beth. It's not just my friend or the time of year, many of us have a season of grief when the death anniversary and birthday of our loved one comes along. So how do we cope?

I have learned that there is no right or wrong way to work through it. Grief is so personal and it’s influenced by our experience and relationships.

As the years pass, you may handle these periods differently. Sometimes keeping busy, not just with work, but with an active social life can help. A focus on being productive so you don't succumb to sadness may give a sense that at least you are moving forward. Often, just living in the present and keeping an eye on the future helps.

I have my seasons, too. No matter how sad, it is essential for me to acknowledge my loved ones. I think of them on their birthdays, feeling my love for them and the gratitude that they were a part of my life. I light a candle for each of them on the anniversary of their death. The candle burns for twenty-four hours and as I move through my day, I glimpse the flame as I pass and it reminds me how their spirit continues to live on within me.

What I have found empowering is the knowledge that while I can’t change what has happened to me, I can control how I manage the experience. I can avoid it by burying myself or getting out of town. Or, I can acknowledge it and allow myself to recognize the gifts that were mine, no matter how fleeting. All of us have that power.

​Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, now available in nine e-books: Illness & Death, Suicide, Miscarriage, Death of a Child, Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby, Pet Loss, Caregiver Responsibilities, Divorce, and Job Loss. All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store. Click here to order.

While feeling sad after a loved one's death is a natural phase of the grieving process, some people find that first and second year too raw to participate in the holidays. Family and friends might help buffer those first celebrations, but if you’re all by yourself or feeling alone, you may be more comfortable seeking help.

Local hospices, hospitals, funeral homes, and  bereavement support groups offer workshops on getting through the holidays, often held from Thanksgiving through New Year’s. Conduct an online search and enter "grief support during the holidays" and you'll be prompted with an array of options. Try the "near me" or access any of the other results. If you come up empty do a search for local hospices and call them directly. There are numerous options for online support groups as well. Enter "online bereavement support groups" and check out the listings to find a group you're comfortable with.

Many people find grief support particularly helpful during the holiday season. It’s comforting to know you’re not alone.

​Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, now available in nine e-books: Illness & Death, Suicide, Miscarriage, Death of a Child, Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby, Pet Loss, Caregiver Responsibilities, Divorce, and Job Loss. All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store. Click here to order.

​So many of our holiday traditions are family-centered, making it painful to face the holidays after a loved one dies. Despite the pain, some people find it comforting to continue the old traditions that they've enjoyed. Since grief in itself is exhausting, it can be too overwhelming to try and build new traditions when mourning a loved one.

How you choose to handle holidays is a highly personal decision. In the first few months or years, you alone know whether it's comfortable or painful to bake the cookies, make that signature dinner, or hold the annual picnic. As time passes, you may find that life in itself has changed and it feels more comfortable to modify or integrate some new and different traditions.

One friend is widowed and lives with her widowed mom. Their holiday celebrations are much smaller now that it’s just the two of them. Rather than cooking a holiday meal, they usually have dinner with friends or go out to eat. An enormous fresh tree was central to their Christmas celebration, but my friend finds it's too difficult to handle alone, so they have a small artificial tree. But they keep the tradition of the Christmas lights, hiring a handyman to put them up.

Another friend was widowed when his two children were teens. He found it helpful that first year to ask his children, "How do you want to do this holiday?" There were holiday traditions that they kept intact because it was just natural to do things they enjoyed. When one child left for college the following year and the family of four became a family of two, life and holidays changed. But the changes felt like a more natural transition. Six years after his wife's death, my friend integrates some of the old traditions into his holidays, just because it feels comfortable.
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Memories may be your best guide to the holidays. Determine what makes you feel good and what makes you feel uncomfortable. But there's a difference between being uncomfortable and being sad. As one friend says, "Some people are so concerned about feeling sad. It's okay to feel sad; you've just lost your loved one."

Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, now available in nine e-books: Illness & Death, Suicide, Miscarriage, Death of a Child, Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby, Pet Loss, Caregiver Responsibilities, Divorce, and Job Loss. All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store. Click here to order.

It’s difficult to witness the physical and mental decline of a friend or loved one with a debilitating illness. In fact, it’s hard not to grieve while they are still alive, as responsibilities and relationships shift and lives change. Some might think that death would be a relief and grief shortened, but that’s not often the case.

My mother declined over a period of 18 months, and during that time, our roles steadily reversed. I loved her dearly, relying on her strength, and I grieved for her as she retreated from my life. Following surgery, she bravely and with great determination fought her way to recovery and amazingly flew by herself first west and then north for family visits. She died just three months after her visit with me.

The morning after her funeral, my first emotion was relief: I would no longer have to worry. No more frequent phone calls or arguments as I pleaded with her to forgo habits and activities that put her at risk. That relief quickly mushroomed into overwhelming grief, and it would take me time to learn how to live without her.

One friend had a different experience. She shadowed her parents during the year her father bravely fought cancer and again the following year when her mother’s cancer spread. By the second funeral,  she felt numb. Surely she grieved in those early days as she and her siblings settled the family estate, but she shared that she had done most of her grieving while her parents were still alive.

Another friend’s mother had dementia, and it robbed her of seven years of her life. Her mom’s decline was excruciating to watch. While driving her mom to the doctor one day, my friend’s mother asked, “Are you my mother or my daughter?” My friend lost control of the car and hit a parked car. After that incident, my friend prayed that her mom would pass away and find some peace. When the day finally came and her mother died, my friend was inconsolable. She grieved deeply until her own death, just eighteen months later.

Grief is such a personal experience. We all grieve differently based on our personalities, relationship with the deceased, life experiences, and probably a host of other factors. And we grieve in our own time. Just because we have a warning that a loved one will die doesn’t mean we are prepared for the loss. No matter the relationship or the age, few people are ready to say goodbye. Each of us needs the time, space, and extended support to heal and, hopefully, find peace. 

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​Copyright Legacy.com Used with permission

The death of a loved one brings significant change. We are no longer a spouse, parent, sibling, child, or friend. Life is completely thrown off course and every aspect of it is altered, including our social order, financial circumstances, and relationships. We view the world through a different lens and as we mourn our loved one, our perspective shifts.

Grieving a loss is like finding yourself caught in an emotional tsunami; everything seems out of control, with no notion of how to reign things in. It can feel as if you’re stumbling in the dark, searching for a calm port in a raging storm.

As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks become months, most of us begin to get a grip on things and start to find our footing. We realize we are adjusting and slowly reenter the world. But as we pick up the threads of our lives, we find one change that is difficult to absorb: Without our knowledge or consent, we have changed.

One bereaved spouse shares: “I miss the old me.” You might also be missing the mother, daughter, sibling, or friend you used to be. But maybe what you are pining for isn’t the old you, but the sheltered you. The you that did not know such pain existed; the you who did not know what it would feel like to be left fatherless, motherless, parent-less, sibling-less, spouse-less, or childless.

While we continue to mourn our loss, it becomes evident that life changes are inevitable. While moving through our grief we begin to see the possibility of positive outcomes. Coming face to face with life’s fragilities helps us focus on our priorities, recognizing what’s truly important. And while we might have lost the ability to see the world through rose-colored glasses, we have gained greater empathy for others facing loss.

You may be surprised to see that a new “me” emerges from your grief. The new me is just a different version of the old me, one that feels older and wiser. It will take time to adjust to the new me. Once you do, you’ll be in a place to make better decisions to move you forward. 

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copyright Legacy.com  Used with permission

​A friend sent an email with sad news. A young family she socialized with was bereaved. The dad died unexpectedly from a heart attack and she didn’t know what to do. Should she call? And if she did, what should she say?

In troubling times, it can be hard to know what to do. Do you call or respect one’s privacy and give friends time to cope? Do you send an email and offer assistance? And if you do reach out and are rebuffed, do you back off or try again?

It’s always appropriate to reach out and offer assistance, but be specific. Do they need help in picking someone up from the airport, a meal, errands, or someone to stay with the children?

​One of the kindest things you can do for the bereaved is to show up. Offer to visit for a short time. Enter the home, turn your cell phone off, and store your belongings. Then pay attention and listen. You can offer to help, but let your friend guide the way. If it’s a chore or errand, step in. If it’s company they need, sit quietly and be present. Your active presence is what is needed most, right now and in the weeks and months ahead. 

Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, now at a reduced price for e-books for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store.
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​​photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/89165847@N00/16057342786">Teacher and Student 35 Years On</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/">(license)</a>

I learned to be comfortable with the bereaved because at a young age, I was the bereaved. I witnessed firsthand how young friends, their parents, my neighbors, teachers, school officials, relatives, and family friends treated and interacted with me upon learning of my father's death.

And yet it was my mom who taught me how to comfort the bereaved. She connected by phone, cooked a meal, visited the bereaved, and continued to help long past when others ceased to call. It was her model that I emulated and used to teach my own children: death is a part of life and the bereaved need our support.

Not everyone feels at ease comforting the bereaved. And if you’re not comfortable, how will you teach your child to be comfortable?

One of the ways to instill compassion in your child is to work on a comforting activity together. This is how my neighbor Susan did it.

Susan and her best friend Abby were pregnant at the same time. Susan’s baby, Lisa, was healthy; Abby’s baby, Beth, wasn’t. Beth was born with a disfiguring congenital defect for which there was no cure or repair and her parents were told that she had only months to live.

Susan and her daughter spent a lot of time with Abby and Beth as well as Abby’s older daughter Sara. When Beth died at age two, she had lived much longer than expected. Susan was a gifted writer and she chose to write the story of Beth’s life. She wanted big sister Sara to know that despite Beth’s disfiguring illness, she was much loved and during her short time on earth, her life was meaningful and she made a difference.

While working on the project, Susan shared what she was doing with her daughter Lisa and Lisa colored the illustrations Susan had drawn. Together, Susan and Lisa presented the book to Abby and Sara. Abby has shared that during the five years since Beth’s death Sara continues to get comfort from the book. She shares it with new friends as it is a comfortable way to tell the story of Beth’s short life and death.

Since Beth’s death, Susan has used her writing talents on several occasions. She has written stories and poems for friends and loved ones who are bereaved. Now, Lisa offers to draw the illustrations. She’s learned firsthand from a compassionate mom how to be compassionate too.

​Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, now available as e-books for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store

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Copyright Legacy.com  Used with permission

There is no way around it: Grief is painful. It’s hard to experience it yourself and it’s terribly difficult to watch someone you love go through it. But what’s the alternative? 

You can try to medicate your grief, but at some point you have to stop and the pain comes rushing back. Distractions do help, but if you are not grieving your loss, eventually distractions end and you are once again left with the pain. 

So what does work?

It's important to allow yourself to fully mourn your loss so you can ultimately accept it and move on with your life. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t begin to re-enter during the mourning process. In fact, making your way back into the world goes a long way in helping you work through your grief.

Patience and purpose are helpful healers. Activities and deeds, such as work, hobbies, interests, and volunteering are excellent ways to distract while helping the mind refocus. And when you’re in a place where it’s difficult to feel joy, there is satisfaction in accomplishing tasks and joy in helping others.

Transitions are never easy and this is a tough one to make.  Everyone works through grief in their own way and in their own time, so cut yourself or your loved one some slack and go with what works.


Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, now at a reduced price for e-books for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store.
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My mother was a wise woman and a wonderful teacher. While we shared a lifetime of learning, it was not until her death that I realized she forgot one important lesson: She never told me how to live without her.

I’m not alone. Even though the death of a parent is the natural order of things, everyone I know has struggled with the death of a parent. Whether the relationship is a good one or bad, we never seem to be ready to lose them, no matter their age or ours.
 
It was the death of my dearest friend that spurred me to begin thinking of my own death. At the cemetery following my friend’s funeral my daughters asked, “Is this the cemetery where you would like to be buried?” As my husband and I had not had this discussion, it was a good place to start. We chose to respond to our daughters by asking them what they wanted. “Will you visit a grave site?” we asked, and “Do you want us buried in a place where you can come and grieve?”

In the following weeks, I began to explore funeral and burial options and ask myself the hard questions. For instance: What kind of life do I want my children to have when I am no longer with them? I knew that I do not want my children to feel as lost as I did when my own mother died.  

And so, my family began a series of discussions on a topic that one daughter calls, “The sad stuff.” Whatever it might be called, I am undeterred. There are decisions to be made on cremation services, niches versus cemetery plots, and the merits of a variety of burial/funeral fees. Our talks gravitate towards my wishes should my spouse survive me to thoughts and feelings about a range of topics. I want my daughters to understand and embrace that life should be lived without regret. And to accept that the world will continue and so will they, even when I am no longer by their side.
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There never is a good time to talk about death and yet I have seen the chaotic aftermath when the topic is avoided and feelings are left unsaid. I have chosen a different route for my family. My children now know how I feel and they will not be left with a burden of decisions to ponder when I am gone. It’s also freed up my mind to better embrace and enjoy the rest of my life.  


Robbie Miller Kaplan is an author who writes from a unique perspective as a mother who has lost two children. She has written How to Say It When You Don't Know What to Say, a guide to help readers communicate effectively when those they care about experience loss, now available as e-books for "Illness & Death," "Suicide," "Miscarriage," "Death of a Child," "Death of a Stillborn or Newborn Baby," "Pet Loss," "Caregiver Responsibilities," "Divorce" and "Job Loss." All titles are in Amazon's Kindle Store

Photo AnaRusso via photopin

Copyright www.legacy.com  Used with permission