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'I lost my mum seven weeks ago': our readers on coping with grief at Christmas 'I lost my mum seven weeks ago': our readers on coping with grief at Christmas 'I lost my mum seven weeks ago': our readers on coping with grief at Christmas
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Living with the loss of a loved one is always hard, but grief can feel more acute at certain times of the year. At Christmas, for instance, when people come together, the absence of friends or family can be more keenly felt. So what are the best ways to cope?Living with the loss of a loved one is always hard, but grief can feel more acute at certain times of the year. At Christmas, for instance, when people come together, the absence of friends or family can be more keenly felt. So what are the best ways to cope?
We asked for our readers’ experiences. Here are their stories.We asked for our readers’ experiences. Here are their stories.
Hayley, 34 from Buckinghamshire: I lost my mum seven weeks ago. The pressure to be happy at Christmas is knocking me off my feetHayley, 34 from Buckinghamshire: I lost my mum seven weeks ago. The pressure to be happy at Christmas is knocking me off my feet
Last year, my family and I spent Christmas Day in a hospital in Oxford, plating up a dinner for my mum and dad. We had paper hats and crackers. It was my mum’s first meal in four weeks. It was important to us, as we had spent the previous three months by her bedside waiting for a diagnosis. We learned that she had had central nervous system (CNS) lymphoma, but they said the odds were good. That year we got the greatest gift ever: hope.Last year, my family and I spent Christmas Day in a hospital in Oxford, plating up a dinner for my mum and dad. We had paper hats and crackers. It was my mum’s first meal in four weeks. It was important to us, as we had spent the previous three months by her bedside waiting for a diagnosis. We learned that she had had central nervous system (CNS) lymphoma, but they said the odds were good. That year we got the greatest gift ever: hope.
Fast forward to today, and it’s been seven weeks since I lost my beloved mother. The thought of Christmas this year has made me somewhat uneasy, though I know I must get through it for the sake of my children. I have been coping as best I can, getting on with everyday life. But while trying to untangle my Christmas tree lights recently the full weight of my loss came crashing down. I was overcome with emotion and it took me a few days to come back from a seemingly bottomless pit.Fast forward to today, and it’s been seven weeks since I lost my beloved mother. The thought of Christmas this year has made me somewhat uneasy, though I know I must get through it for the sake of my children. I have been coping as best I can, getting on with everyday life. But while trying to untangle my Christmas tree lights recently the full weight of my loss came crashing down. I was overcome with emotion and it took me a few days to come back from a seemingly bottomless pit.
Christmas has amplified my grief. I’ve been made dizzy by the twinkling lights, festive songs and endless present-buying. The pressure to be happy has knocked me off my feet. Usually I can keep up with all the festive cheer, but this year I am not fit for the marathon.The only advice I have been given is, “be kind to yourself”, “surround yourself with loved ones” and “let it out”. This is what people tell me on a daily basis. So with this in mind, I am heading up north to my in-laws. There is no doubt their Christmas jumper camaraderie will soften my woes. But I know that every moment I feel the slightest joy, I will see my mum’s face – and wonder if she, too, is sitting somewhere in a Christmas jumper missing me.Christmas has amplified my grief. I’ve been made dizzy by the twinkling lights, festive songs and endless present-buying. The pressure to be happy has knocked me off my feet. Usually I can keep up with all the festive cheer, but this year I am not fit for the marathon.The only advice I have been given is, “be kind to yourself”, “surround yourself with loved ones” and “let it out”. This is what people tell me on a daily basis. So with this in mind, I am heading up north to my in-laws. There is no doubt their Christmas jumper camaraderie will soften my woes. But I know that every moment I feel the slightest joy, I will see my mum’s face – and wonder if she, too, is sitting somewhere in a Christmas jumper missing me.
Maria O’Dwyer, 58 from Dublin: Every Christmas I remember my husband with my family. It helps me copeMaria O’Dwyer, 58 from Dublin: Every Christmas I remember my husband with my family. It helps me cope
My husband, Brian, passed away five years ago after suffering for seven years with multiple myeloma (a rare blood cancer). He was a gentle, witty, loving man.My husband, Brian, passed away five years ago after suffering for seven years with multiple myeloma (a rare blood cancer). He was a gentle, witty, loving man.
Brian worked as a credit union manager and enjoyed his job. His passion from childhood, however, was flying: he got his pilot’s licence at Biggin Hill when he was 20, and flew small planes and gliders for years.Brian worked as a credit union manager and enjoyed his job. His passion from childhood, however, was flying: he got his pilot’s licence at Biggin Hill when he was 20, and flew small planes and gliders for years.
He had friends from all walks of life. We first met at Brian’s father’s wedding when his (widowed) father married my aunt. Brian was seven and I was five; we began dating 10 years later. Brian moved to London – but we kept in touch and met again and married in our 20s. We have one daughter.He had friends from all walks of life. We first met at Brian’s father’s wedding when his (widowed) father married my aunt. Brian was seven and I was five; we began dating 10 years later. Brian moved to London – but we kept in touch and met again and married in our 20s. We have one daughter.
We miss Brian every day, but Christmas is especially hard. Our families are connected because of his dad and my aunt. Brian was the centre of any party and always had his guitar close at hand. He was very musical. There is a huge hole in our lives now – and although people say time is a healer, in some ways I find it gets harder. As the years go by he seems further away.We miss Brian every day, but Christmas is especially hard. Our families are connected because of his dad and my aunt. Brian was the centre of any party and always had his guitar close at hand. He was very musical. There is a huge hole in our lives now – and although people say time is a healer, in some ways I find it gets harder. As the years go by he seems further away.
Every year we meet Brian’s extended family for brunch on Christmas Eve – it’s a big family gathering. We talk about him and how much we all miss him. It brings him closer, even if it’s just for a few hours. It might sound flippant but I think it’s important to talk about the person you lost. Where possible stay in touch with mutual friends and share memories.Every year we meet Brian’s extended family for brunch on Christmas Eve – it’s a big family gathering. We talk about him and how much we all miss him. It brings him closer, even if it’s just for a few hours. It might sound flippant but I think it’s important to talk about the person you lost. Where possible stay in touch with mutual friends and share memories.
It’s easy to become isolated and cocooned at this time of year. Make a huge effort to meet people – and don’t be afraid to talk about your sadness and loss.It’s easy to become isolated and cocooned at this time of year. Make a huge effort to meet people – and don’t be afraid to talk about your sadness and loss.
Kim Garcia, from New York: Christmas was the very last holiday we got to spend together as a familyKim Garcia, from New York: Christmas was the very last holiday we got to spend together as a family
I lost my 12-year-old son Brandon six years ago in a car accident. It’s never easy remembering the night he died, or even talking about it, but doing so has become part of my healing process.I lost my 12-year-old son Brandon six years ago in a car accident. It’s never easy remembering the night he died, or even talking about it, but doing so has become part of my healing process.
For the first couple of years it was very hard for me. I surrounded myself with family members, especially my two sons who survived the accident. You go through a stage of shock, where you try to come to terms with the fact that person is not coming back. I also went through a stage of fearing night-time, because that’s when the accident happened. I would stay up all night until I saw daylight.For the first couple of years it was very hard for me. I surrounded myself with family members, especially my two sons who survived the accident. You go through a stage of shock, where you try to come to terms with the fact that person is not coming back. I also went through a stage of fearing night-time, because that’s when the accident happened. I would stay up all night until I saw daylight.
I learned to cope by celebrating my son’s life; for instance, we mark his birthday every January. Christmas is the hardest time of year because it was the very last holiday we got to spend together as a family. I lost him in the summer. He was a happy boy who loved his family so much; I can still see his smiling face.I learned to cope by celebrating my son’s life; for instance, we mark his birthday every January. Christmas is the hardest time of year because it was the very last holiday we got to spend together as a family. I lost him in the summer. He was a happy boy who loved his family so much; I can still see his smiling face.
I celebrate his legacy by giving back to the community. He loved to help others and had a big heart. Once a year, on the anniversary of his death, I give away book bags and school supplies at his favourite book store to help families in our community in Dutchess County. And I try to offer love and compassion to other parents who have lost a child. I’ve become particularly close to another woman who lost a son. We support each other.I celebrate his legacy by giving back to the community. He loved to help others and had a big heart. Once a year, on the anniversary of his death, I give away book bags and school supplies at his favourite book store to help families in our community in Dutchess County. And I try to offer love and compassion to other parents who have lost a child. I’ve become particularly close to another woman who lost a son. We support each other.
We also honour Brandon by wearing a T-shirt with his picture on it. My advice for anyone dealing with grief is allow God to be your strength. Celebrate your loved one and remember that grieving doesn’t have a time frame.We also honour Brandon by wearing a T-shirt with his picture on it. My advice for anyone dealing with grief is allow God to be your strength. Celebrate your loved one and remember that grieving doesn’t have a time frame.
Bernard McGrath, 58 from Leeds: Life must go on, and the person you have lost would want you to carry onBernard McGrath, 58 from Leeds: Life must go on, and the person you have lost would want you to carry on
My wife died unexpectedly on 12 November. She had not been ill. She had an epileptic fit during the night, which led to pulmonary aspiration. She stopped breathing and died.My wife died unexpectedly on 12 November. She had not been ill. She had an epileptic fit during the night, which led to pulmonary aspiration. She stopped breathing and died.
This will be the first Christmas my daughter and I will spend without her. People don’t know whether they should send cards; in some cases, they can’t bring themselves to say “Happy Christmas”. I know they are just trying to be kind, but they are being over-sensitive.This will be the first Christmas my daughter and I will spend without her. People don’t know whether they should send cards; in some cases, they can’t bring themselves to say “Happy Christmas”. I know they are just trying to be kind, but they are being over-sensitive.
My wife loved Christmas, and loved shopping for our extended family. I now have to juggle coping without her and trying to provide some kind of normality for my daughter.My wife loved Christmas, and loved shopping for our extended family. I now have to juggle coping without her and trying to provide some kind of normality for my daughter.
People who do not know Helen has died, naturally, still send cards addressed to all three of us. I find seeing all of our names on the envelope and card painful. The sense of loss will be most acute around Christmas Day. I used to stay up the night before with her until the early hours wrapping presents.People who do not know Helen has died, naturally, still send cards addressed to all three of us. I find seeing all of our names on the envelope and card painful. The sense of loss will be most acute around Christmas Day. I used to stay up the night before with her until the early hours wrapping presents.
The best way to cope with grief is to talk about the person you have lost. Do not bottle up emotion. Be prepared for periods of normality, and then – out of the blue – intense emotion. Be fully aware that you will never truly get over your loss, there is no magic day of closure. Accept all and any support offered.The best way to cope with grief is to talk about the person you have lost. Do not bottle up emotion. Be prepared for periods of normality, and then – out of the blue – intense emotion. Be fully aware that you will never truly get over your loss, there is no magic day of closure. Accept all and any support offered.
In time you will adjust. Ultimately, life goes on – and the person you have lost would want you to carry on.In time you will adjust. Ultimately, life goes on – and the person you have lost would want you to carry on.
Gillian, 33 from Lincoln: Every year I raise a glass to her while watching the Strictly Come Dancing specialGillian, 33 from Lincoln: Every year I raise a glass to her while watching the Strictly Come Dancing special
I lost my big sister suddenly in October 2014. She had just had a coffee with our parents before getting into her car to drive home. She had a cardiac arrest before she even turned on the engine. About two months later we got a diagnosis of arrhythmogenic right ventricular cardiomyopathy (ARVC). The same genetic heart condition that caused the footballer, Fabrice Muamba, to collapse.I lost my big sister suddenly in October 2014. She had just had a coffee with our parents before getting into her car to drive home. She had a cardiac arrest before she even turned on the engine. About two months later we got a diagnosis of arrhythmogenic right ventricular cardiomyopathy (ARVC). The same genetic heart condition that caused the footballer, Fabrice Muamba, to collapse.
Christmas is one of the hardest times of year, along with the anniversary of her death and her birthday. To have someone missing during the festive period is painful. We can all be sitting around together and I will find myself waiting for the doorbell to ring and for her to come in. For a long time her death didn’t feel real. That is a very common reaction when you lose somebody suddenly and unexpectedly.Christmas is one of the hardest times of year, along with the anniversary of her death and her birthday. To have someone missing during the festive period is painful. We can all be sitting around together and I will find myself waiting for the doorbell to ring and for her to come in. For a long time her death didn’t feel real. That is a very common reaction when you lose somebody suddenly and unexpectedly.
Every year at Christmas I raise a glass to her while watching the Strictly Come Dancing special. We would never agree on our favourites. I know that she would’ve hated Ed Balls, but I loved him. I can hear her commenting on the smugness of certain contestants. That may sound silly, but thinking about this helps. She loved the show.Every year at Christmas I raise a glass to her while watching the Strictly Come Dancing special. We would never agree on our favourites. I know that she would’ve hated Ed Balls, but I loved him. I can hear her commenting on the smugness of certain contestants. That may sound silly, but thinking about this helps. She loved the show.
It’s OK to be sad; pretending otherwise is pointless. It helps to speak about the one you lost, even if it is painful. It’s also good to try to find beauty in music, church, family, charity – wherever you can.It’s OK to be sad; pretending otherwise is pointless. It helps to speak about the one you lost, even if it is painful. It’s also good to try to find beauty in music, church, family, charity – wherever you can.
It will always be sad and tragic, but the more you bring the person you lost into Christmas, the easier it gets over time.It will always be sad and tragic, but the more you bring the person you lost into Christmas, the easier it gets over time.