Updated: Aug. 13, 2015
Originally Published: Dec. 22, 2010
As the gentle strains of “Bring on the Rain” play softly in the background—much to my delight, sans the usual Christmas jingles—a familiar apple-scented candle flickers nearby. The crisp aroma of pine is absent, and I can’t help but be grateful that snow isn’t blanketing the landscape outside.
It’s hard to believe yet another year has gone by without my parents. Almost 14 years ago, on December 23, I lost my mother after her valiant struggle with metastatic lung cancer. A year and seven months later, my father followed her. In that time, I also faced the heartache of losing a baby. Back then, in my early twenties, I was just stepping into adulthood, navigating a new marriage, our first home, and the transition from college life to the workforce.
Everywhere I turn, reminders of my past linger. The twinkling lights in darkened windows, cheerful family photos cluttering my social media feeds, the scent of Chanel No. 5 wafting through the mall—even the whiff of pipe smoke can bring a wave of sadness. I try to hide my inner struggles behind a smile, but some days, particularly December 23, are just plain tough.
Many of you parents out there can relate. You’ve experienced the loss of loved ones during what is supposed to be a joyful season. While others are busy reveling in the festivities, you might find yourself wanting to crawl under the covers and hibernate until the New Year.
After my father passed away in 2002, I felt anchorless in a world that suddenly seemed too vast. My parents were my biggest supporters, and without them, I felt lost. My husband and in-laws were wonderful, yet they couldn’t fully comprehend the depth of my grief.
For those dealing with personal tragedies, rest assured that there are resources available. Many hospitals and faith-based organizations offer grief support groups. I found solace in working with a grief counselor during the initial months following each loss. One helpful strategy was maintaining a daily journal to capture my emotions, which eventually morphed into a book. On particularly tough days, I allowed myself to feel the sadness instead of bottling it up.
Years have passed, and now my daughters and husband are my daily reality. Honestly, some days, they are the only things that keep me going. When my girls were small, I longed to call my mom for advice—When did I walk? Talk? How did she cope with sleepless nights, diaper rashes, or a sick baby? Unfortunately, those questions will forever linger unanswered. I don’t even have a baby book to remember those moments.
Just last week, I had an interview with a local journalist, Alex, promoting my book. She mentioned, “I had no idea you were an orphan. You’ve never shared that with me.” She was right. It’s not a secret, but I often keep that part of my life quiet. I’ve noticed that people tend to react differently when they learn about my history, and sometimes it makes them uncomfortable.
If you find yourself in a similar situation, know that you are not alone. I understand the good days and the bad ones. Sometimes, I wish I could cry alongside you. Yet, we often hold it together for the little ones we brought into this world. We push through those hardest of days, hoping that time will help mend even the deepest wounds.
In just a few hours, I’ll light a candle in memory of my mother, just as I do every year. I’ll share stories about my parents with my daughters, passing on the invaluable lessons they imparted. Much like the rain, December 23 will eventually fade away. Until next year.
For more insights, you can check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination. If you’re interested in learning more about the journey of artificial insemination, this article is a great place to start. And for those who want to explore grieving further, you might find this post helpful as well.
Summary:
In this heartfelt reflection, Rachel Whitmore recounts her experiences of navigating life without her parents, particularly during the holiday season. She shares the challenges of grief, the importance of support systems, and the way she honors her parents’ memory while raising her daughters. Through personal anecdotes and insights, she emphasizes that those who have faced similar losses are not alone and that healing takes time.