Category: holidays in grief
Mary Beth Cichocki
Mothers Day. Those two words once brought happy memories of cards and flowers, crabs and beer. My family gathered together to celebrate motherhood. Three generations laughing and loving. Sharing the memories of childhood, then teen years that became adult years changing our families women into mothers. Every year we gathered together at my house. A beautiful family tradition. Grandmothers, Aunts, Mother in Law, sister, sons and daughter. To celebrate family and love. This year Mother’s Day grabs my heart and shatters it like glass. Broken in too many pieces to ever be repaired. Our family forever changed by addiction. A beautiful family tradition now missing a very large presence.
Mary Beth Cichocki
The holidays. Those two words used to bring such joy to my heart and plans to my head. I would head to the store with my list and always ended up with more than I bargained for. I would envision the day. The table, the turkey, family, and friends all together and celebrating our blessings. We started in the dining room but always ended up in the kitchen. Pouring more wine, picking on leftovers, and laughing about how much we ate. Three generations gathered under one roof. Even the pups shared in the spirit of the day. Lying under the table knowing which human was tender-hearted, slyly dropping pieces of turkey into their waiting mouths.
Lee Ann Christ
Brian died on the 15th of December,11 years ago of a heroin overdose. Heaven heard my scream of agony that morning. A week later the tsunami of 2004 hit Indonesia. Seeing a photo of a woman lying prostrate on the beach in anguish over her loss, I knew and shared her grief. It was palpable. The world became a very small place.
Happy New Year!
Have you done all your shopping?
Are you ready for Christmas?
Enjoy Christmas break!
Originally published in Listening Hearts Newsletter Jan-Feb 2012
Another Christmas with all the activities had come and gone, and once again my husband Roy and I celebrated New Year’s Eve with good friends. We were in a room full of people, all happy and laughing, making their New Year resolutions.
I wondered what sad stories may be hiding behind some of the faces in the room, as people put on their mask once again, so the world doesn’t see their pain. I know for certain one friend at our table hides the deep pain of a son’s suicide, many years ago, in a time when such things were hushed up and rarely spoken of since. We only found out when we lost our son Joel, four and a half years ago, and then it was through the wife of his second marriage. We had known this friend for four years, and were shocked, and while we knew he felt our deep pain, sadly he still couldn’t bring himself to speak of it.