"As the first Christmas after my son William's death approached, I couldn't bear the thought of putting up a Christmas tree. I couldn't imagine displaying all the nutcrackers we had collected together. I couldn't walk into our usual family gathering pretending to be OK. I was petrified of being watched, being whispered about, and being pitied by the other guests. I knew their concern would come from a place of love, but I just didn't want anyone else to witness my holiday grief."
"Back then, I wasn't a bereavement expert or a grief advocate. I was a mother with no guidebook, suddenly living inside a story I never wanted to read. So we followed our instincts and did what felt best for us, without worrying how those around us would feel. Truth be told, that first Christmas was awful. We could barely find a reason to smile, and we all cried at different points throughout the day, but at least it was on our terms."
Her son William died in a ski accident in 2019 at age nine. She continued to honor him during the holidays despite his physical absence. The first Christmas after his death felt unbearable: she avoided decorating, feared being watched or pitied, and chose to leave family gatherings. The family traveled to San Francisco and spent the day privately, allowing themselves to be sad together. That first holiday was painful but took place on their terms. Over subsequent years they sometimes resumed traditions, sometimes changed plans, and relied on acts of service and open conversation to navigate grief and maintain connection.
Read at Business Insider
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