Another Holiday Season Without My Parents (And Why You Should Be Kind To Strangers)
The most wonderful time of the year can also be heavy.
Anyone who knows me know that I love the holiday season. Love.
The food, the music, the magic in the air. It really is the most wonderful time of the year.
Or at least… it used to be.
When I unexpectedly lost my Mom in January 2017, everything changed. And I mean everything.
We had to put my special needs sister in a home. Me and my dad fought and wouldn’t speak for 3 years. I even moved back home and gave up on my music career… (temporarily.)
That first Christmas was brutal. Especially at 26 years old.
When you’re a kid, you are pretty oblivious to the amount of time, money, and love your parents put into Christmas. Now, I feel both happy and sad when I hear Christmas music — especially Neil Diamond. The smell of a Christmas tree makes me smile, but also long for the days when I would help my Mom dig out boxes of old decorations. I think about helping my Grandma set up the train around the tree. I think about jumping on Kim’s bed to wake her up when I was a kid. I think about how my Mom would stay up all night long, (she was a last minute kind of human) wrapping our gifts and setting up the new video game console so that it would be playing on the TV as me and Kiley came running down the stairs on Christmas morning. I remember as a teenager, running across the street to get some Dunkin Donuts at 7am in a desperate (and loud) attempt to wake her up so we could unwrap our gifts.
And I also remember my Mom crying every Christmas night when it was all over. And now I know why.
My dad passed away last year, right before Christmas. I’m thankful that we fixed our relationship before that. But good f*cking lord… am I sad.
Last year was the first holiday season I had to experience without both of my parents. They also wouldn’t let us visit my little sister in her unit, due to covid restrictions. It was an ache I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy.
There’s only one saving grace in all of this — my sister, Kim. I literally don’t know what I would do without her. She is my best friend. My confidant. My rock. My heart.
We take it upon ourselves every Christmas to make our own traditions now. When I land home in New Jersey and get back to her house, there are cozy Christmas pajamas and socks waiting on the bed for me. We make cookies. We listen to music. We eat, drink, and wrap gifts. Her extended family accepts me as one of them. Kim puts on a strong front for me and tries to make me laugh 24–7 so that I don’t cry. The truth is… I want to cry the entire time.
Loss and grief are unavoidable. There’s nothing I can do to stop the sadness and ache in my heart from missing my family — from missing the life I once was lucky enough to experience.
Every day is difficult, but the holiday season is even tougher. I feel an equal amount of joy and pain. Longing for family that you can no longer speak to, hug, or laugh with is… crippling. My heart is tired. But I do my best to find joy where I can and just take it day by day.
I don’t write this article for sympathy or pity. I write this article as a reminder to cherish your family if you are lucky enough to still have them, and to also be kind to everyone you encounter this holiday season. You never know what someone else is going through.
And most importantly: choose love. Always.
