I know you don’t want to hear this (well . . . maybe some of you do . . .), but as of this writing, it’s exactly 100 days until Christmas.  That means it’s also 71 days until Thanksgiving.  Under normal circumstances (and since when have we had normal?) I’d glare at anyone who even remotely hinted at the length of time—or lack thereof—before the arrival of these two holidays.  It’s not that I mind either of them.  At my house, Thanksgiving isn’t quite as involved as Christmas.  But Christmas?  It fairly explodes.  By the time I’m finished, it’s Christmas in every nook and cranny—and we have a lot of nooks and crannies.

So, if I’m that opposed to counting down the days, why would I mention this now?

Because I want you to be prepared.

“Prepared for what?” you may ask.  Not the normal family gatherings, although being prepared for them is usually a good idea.  I’m not talking about all the shopping or baking or decorating.  I’m talking about the second year of family-oriented holidays when you’re missing someone from your family circle.

Most of those who are mourning the loss of someone dear to them absolutely dread the coming of Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It’s supposed to be a season of family and friends, and when there’s an empty chair at the table and an empty place in your heart, things simply are not the same, and they aren’t supposed to be.  The pain seems to grow greater as the days get closer and many folks would just rather go into hibernation than face their grief.  But then it’s December 26 ^th , and you realize you survived.  A new year rolls in and you begin to breathe a bit easier.  The anxiety fades, the knot in your stomach and the tightness in your chest relaxes ever so slightly, and you feel like you’ve cleared a major hurdle in the grieving process.

And you have.  No one can diminish that, nor should they try.  But what a good many don’t understand is, oftentimes, the second year is worse than the first.

“But,” you ask.  “How can that be? I’m farther away from my loss.  I’ve had more time to process my feelings and rearrange my world.”  All of those statements are true.  But consider this—you knew the first holiday season would be hard.  You anticipated the pain and the chaos that could overwhelm you mentally and emotionally and you tried, as best you could, to prepare.  That second year sneaks up on you because you believe it will be easier for all the reasons I just mentioned.  So you don’t really get ready to jump the holiday hurdles.  You don’t steel yourself for the sight of that empty chair, or finding their stocking in the bottom of the storage box, or seeing something while you’re browsing on-line and realizing how much they would enjoy it.  All the moments you prepared to face in year one will resurface in year two.  And because you didn’t anticipate the pain, they can hurt even more.  It doesn’t help that those around you are thinking the same thing you did.  This is the second time around.  You’re farther away from your loss and you’ve had more time to process your feelings and rearrange your world.  They don’t understand what’s happening and why it didn’t work out that way.

So . . . a heads up.  Although it doesn’t happen to everyone, I’ve heard it too many times from too many folks.  Just because you cleared that hurdle once doesn’t mean it isn’t going to pop up again in the future.  But now you know.  So hopefully, now you can be ready . . . instead of surprised.

About the author:  Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926.  She has been employed at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 40 years and currently serves as the manager there.  Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone, and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.

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