What are you obsessed with at this exact moment? Painting in my house, hot chocolate, making meals in the slow cooker I received for Christmas from my parents, anything on Pinterest, and attacking my reading and movie list.
The first phone call I received on January 1st was from work.
They were letting me know that one of our clients, our kids, had lost her baby. She was 8 months pregnant and we had spent hours planning her baby shower and helping her prepare for her bundle of joy. No one can explain what happened, except that she didn’t feel the baby move for a couple of days, was taken the emergency room, and they couldn’t find a heartbeat.
It was a devastating way to start the New Year, full of pain, grief, sadness, anger, and confusion.
I was in Canada visiting my boyfriend when I received the phone call, so there wasn’t much I could do from 2,600 miles away. When I let the reality set in and began to grasp what had happened, I had to be honest with myself. I was glad that I was so far away. I was glad that I was removed from the situation and able to get updates through text messages and email rather than the nurses at the hospital.
It was easier and less painful.
Death is a fragile thing for me.
I feel like I understand it, I know how I prefer to react (being sad and letting myself cry), but I have trouble helping others with it. If you want to sit, I’ll sit with you, but I’m not good with words when death is surrounding us. It’s always becomes too personal for me. I stop thinking about you and I start thinking about me.
My dad died May 23, 2008. He was an alcoholic and drank himself to death. He drank so much during those last few years that his liver shut down. He spent the last few days of his life in ICU, a hospital room, and then a nursing home. He was 56 years old.
It was the hardest day of my life and the months that followed seem like a blur now. I was living in NYC at the time, smack in the middle of graduate school. A week after the funeral, I flew back to Manhattan and began my 12 hours of summer classes. I didn’t have many close friends in the city, so I kept to myself most of the time. Three months later, my boyfriend at the time and I broke up. Then I began therapy.
I was too open, too raw, to do it on my own anymore. I needed someone to talk to who would just listen. Over the next year, I met with my therapist once a week. I told her funny stories from my childhood. I shared pictures of me and my dad hunting for Easter eggs and dressing up as ballerinas. I told her how angry I was at him for choosing alcohol over me and our family. I began understanding what addiction is and how it changes people. I told her about that dark day at the funeral home when I kissed his cheek and told him how much I love him, for the last time. I cried.
Grief looks different for everyone. When my dad died, I made a pact with myself. I knew the grieving process would be long and I knew there would be moments that felt like rock bottom. But I also knew that I wanted to be honest with myself and with my feelings. I wanted to accept myself where I was each day, each minute. I wanted to be kind to myself and non-judgmental. This time of my life sucked enough as it was, I didn’t need to make it worse.
So I kept going to therapy. I blogged. I let myself cry to sleep at night. I became closer with my roommate and I began dating again. And each day was a little easier.
But that’s not what someone wants to hear when they’re in the thick of it, when they’re just experienced a massive loss. At least, that’s not what I wanted to hear. I didn’t want to hear anything. The worst thing that someone said to me at my dad’s funeral was, “It is what it is”. What does that even mean? I still hate that phrase to this day. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that there’s no quick fix. There’s not some magical condolence you can give someone that is going to take their pain away.
There are still days I miss my dad terribly and I cry. I think about him every day and I always wish he was here, but there are days when it’s almost unbearable and my heart feels like it’s breaking, just like it did almost four year ago.
That’s why it’s so hard for me to be so close to someone who is grieving. I know that pain. And when I see it on their face, it brings me right back to that night in May 2008. It’s not that I don’t want to be supportive and show that I care. It’s just that I’m not sure I’m strong enough. I can be with you and share the sadness and silence, but if you want more? I can’t offer that.
All I have is my understanding and my faith that it does get better.

[photo credit: My mom; That's me and my dad!]
I’m taking the bus home for Christmas this year. I usually hate highway 75, because it is so stark in winter. A lot of flat farmland dotted with the occasional grouping of trees, there isn’t much to look at out the window on that ride. But, I do enjoy the ability to think and be by myself for a few hours because inevitably when I go home, I will be surrounded by friends and family, a window into my past. I’ve changed a lot since I moved to Cincinnati, but going home is always a sobering glimpse of the first 18 years of my life.
This year will be different. Grandpa died a week before Christmas last year, and Mom was battling breast cancer. Christmas was sad and not very magical. A year later, Grandpa is still gone, but the pain has gone away a bit, and Mom has been declared cancer free. Hopefully we can inject a little joy into the holiday this year. Dad moved to Pennsylvania and for the first time ever, I won’t see him Christmas Eve. I’ll be going by myself to visit his family while my sister spends Christmas with her finance’s family.
I embrace change every day in my life in Cincinnati, but in my hometown, time is supposed to stop. I see the same faces and have the same traditions, and that is a comforting thought because it is the one constant in life. Now that I’m growing up, everything from my past is changing as people move away, get married, rearrange their lives…I’ll still see family but not everyone. I’ll enjoy the After-Christmas party with friends, but some are married and pregnant and changing every day. Instead of going backward into who I was for a few days every year, I now am confronted with the fluid motion of our lives and forced to reconcile the fact that my life will be ever-changing all the days I have left. This is how it supposed to be, and every year, Christmas will inevitably change just as the people who celebrate it do.
{Photo Credit: Greatbeyond}
For me, this year was all about a reset for the holidays in terms of traditions. Even for a family that loves celebrating together and remembering holidays past, we all took an inventory this year of what we wanted for the holiday and how we wanted to spend our time.
This year, my parents, in an effort to try to make things easier and downsize, decided to purchase a six-foot artificial tree. I am allergic to Christmas trees so for as long as I can remember, we have had a fake Christmas tree. My parents’ house also features a living room with twenty-five foot ceilings that is perfect for a large, grand Christmas tree so about twenty years ago, my parents purchased a fourteen-foot tree (that’s without the star). It takes all four family members together to get the Christmas tree up every year; part of that decorating is the same debate we have every year about the order the branches go on the tree, what color lights to decorate with (I always want white & usually don’t win), which garland color goes up first, and so on. The 14-ft. tree involved moving houseplants and furniture; my parents wanted the smaller tree to lessen the disruption of the house. It did not of course- the 6-ft. tree brought as much debate and discussion as the 14-ft. tree, except this year the arguments centered over the small size, not being able to put all the ornaments up, and where the presents would go. In the end, the new tree looks nice in their front window and represents the start of a new era in the Costa Family. Funny as it sounds, not having an argument about the Christmas tree would be a strange start to the holiday season- it has become part of the tradition for us, no different from the rule that “it isn’t Christmas in the house until Mom puts on her Santa hat.”
My mother and I spend the morning of Christmas Eve Day baking cookies to bring to the various houses we visit on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We used to make dozens and dozens of cookies- sugar, gingerbread, chocolate chip, peanut butter, and more. In the past few years, we have cut down on the number of cookies we make and stick to the Christmas favorites. While we still love baking together, each year there are more cookies left over than to give. This year, we stuck to the standards to cut down on our time and waste.
An evolving tradition in my family is when we open presents. When I was small, it was always on Christmas morning, but as we grew older, we frequently opened them on Christmas Eve because my mother often took Christmas Day shifts to cover for other nurses who had young children. This tradition of opening on Christmas Eve has continued now as we all enjoy the opportunity to sleep in on Christmas morning.
For me, this Christmas season has been about spending time on myself and with my family and friends, starting a new tradition to really be mindful of this special, magical time of year and not so much on the stress and bustle of the holiday season. Back in October I was worried I was going to be sad and lonely during the holidays, so I booked my schedule full of parties, drinks with friends, and crafts to make for gifts. Before Thanksgiving even hit, I was tired and wishing I could cancel on many things. And I did- and that was freeing to be able to say no to people to put my sanity and myself first.
I also tried to be mindful of my free time in regards to Christmas too. I was ambitious in wanting to make a few gifts and buy only a few things- it was tough at times, but I found the time to create the special items and buy the few things I needed. I decorated inside my house and cute little Christmas tree with the company of a special friend, followed by watching Charlie Brown’s Christmas. It didn’t involve a great deal of effort and took no longer than thirty minutes to decorate and put things on away, but the night was spent enjoying the special memories behind some of my ornaments and relaxing. The night was perfect and that will be a new tradition for me as I move ahead in life. I hung a simple wreath on the front door and did not decorate the outside of the house with lights because I didn’t want to have to be worried about it come January and have another item on my to-do list to stress me out.
When I was young, Christmas was always this epic thing involving toys, magic, and excitement. As I’ve grown up, I’ve come to see the holiday season, from Thanksgiving to New Year’s, as an opportunity to reflect and celebrate the year. This year has an extra special element added to it as I embraced my new happiness and living situation with open arms. This year I created new traditions for myself as an adult that some day I hope to integrate into my own family. That idea is really exciting and so this year, while Christmas may be about slowing down and taking time for myself plus my dear family and friends, it’s also about a the beginning of something new and how uniquely me the holidays will be from now on.
[Photo Credit: My super cute Christmas tree!]
It seems like when I was a kid, each Christmas was the same. My mom, dad, sister, and I would head out one night in early December and search for our tree. We’d go to several different lots until we found the perfect one. Not too short, not too fat, not too skinny, and full all the way around. Then we’d load it up in back of my dad’s pick-up truck and make our way to a diner for a late dinner and some hot chocolate. At home, we would spend the rest of the evening hanging lights, ornaments, and tinsel.
On Christmas Eve we would eat tamales, rice, and beans, and then attend our church’s service for the evening. After church, we’d drive around town looking at Christmas lights, ooooh-ing and ahhhh-ing over the pretty colors. When we were back home, we’d turn on the TV to the special news channel that showed us where Santa was in proximity to our town. It was so exciting to know that he was getting closer and closer! Before we went to bed, my sister and I were each allowed to open one present, but it was usually something “boring” like pajamas or a book.
I always had trouble falling asleep on Christmas Eve. I’d toss and turn in my bed imagining Santa flying through the sky with his reindeer and sleigh full of presents. On Christmas morning, my sister and I would run down the hall into the living room and squeal as we saw all of the toys Santa had left for us. At the risk of sounding cliche, it really was magical.
Sadly, as I’ve gotten older, Christmas seems to have lost a few of those traditions and some of the magic has disappeared with it. I associate some of that with the fact that my family dynamic has changed.
My parents got divorced when I was 18 and my father passed away when I was 23. Now that our immediate family is smaller, we try to spend holidays with grandparents and cousins who don’t live too far away. My mom has a fake tree now and it’s beautiful, but it’s not the same as the real ones from my childhood. We didn’t go to church this Christmas Eve, but chose to stay home in the comfort of our pajamas and watch a service on TV. There wasn’t any hot chocolate (though I’m not quite sure why) and it was one of the first times I spent Christmas Eve night at my own apartment rather than my childhood bedroom.
It has been difficult for me to adjust over the years, grieving over those lost traditions and learning to create new ones. When my mom, sister, and I were decorating our tree one weekend at the beginning of December, we began reminiscing about my dad. His sense of humor, his abounding love for Christmas, and our hopes that he could still be here with us. Of course holidays are always hard after you’ve lost someone you love. And I’m sure that’s part of the reason that Christmas feels different to me now than it did 15 years ago, but I think it’s more than that. I think it’s also that we don’t have as many traditions.
Traditions are what create balance. They create rituals and time and memories. They give you something to look forward to and something to look back on. When they are gone, what else do you have?
I’m not sure what traditions I will carry on to my own family one day, but I know I want them to be full of magic. I’d love to develop new traditions too. Maybe there will be gingerbread house decorating and snow angel making! Anything is possible! I just know I want to create moments of hope and anticipation, memories connection, and traditions of love.
[photo credit: Me! Our Christmas tree, 2010]