HannahMinnie, Hannah doll from Santa, and one of my favorite gifts, a canvas print of Abby and Hannah sleeping together, just 5 days before she passed away
We made it through the holidays. I did better than I thought I would, honestly.
I ended up flaking on Christmas Eve activities with family because I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I felt this heavy load on my chest of sadness, and the thought of having to be “on” and “festive” while making gingerbread houses with all the kids just brought me to tears. So Daddy took the kids without me, and it gave me a chance to let me have some time to myself.
But come Christmas day, I felt much better about things. The night before, we put out all the Santa gifts, including the Hannah doll we had ordered which was the only thing in Hannah’s stocking. Leave it to Abigail to point that out first thing even before her other gifts…”Mommy, Santa brought Hannah a doll!” We had a great morning with Ethan and Abby, watching them open and play with their presents.
Then it was off to my in-laws house for more presents and Christmas Day dinner. We stopped by the cemetery and visited with Hannah for awhile before going, and it was really comforting to see quite a few other families there visiting their kids as well. It reassured Daddy and I that putting Hannah in the children’s section was definitely the right place for her, so festive with holiday spirit and so many visitors, unlike the rest of the cemetery.
Christmas Day was actually easier than I thought it would be, thank goodness. Hannah was present in everyone’s minds, she was talked about often, and Santa even brought her a stocking filled with wonderful keepsakes for everyone, including this musical snowglobe angel for me, which I love (yep, Santa stops at my in-laws house for each of the grandkids too). You could feel the love for Hannah throughout the day and evening, and that made such an impact on me.
Hannah and me, December 25, 2010
But there still was this tremendous void in my heart, and I could never really get into the holiday spirit.
That Christmas evening, after the kids and Daddy went to bed, I started taking down all the Christmas knick knacks and decorations in the house. I had to get it done right then. It was kind of felt like a reward of sorts, which probably doesn’t make sense…but I made it through Christmas for the kids and now Daddy and I need to get rid of all the stuff that reminds us of it.
By late morning on the 26th, everything related to Christmas (with the exception of gifts) was already packed away and back in the garage. This is not the norm for us, we usually left all our decorations out, including the tree, until after New years. But I just couldn’t wait that long this time.
I still am constantly feeling this yearning and intense need to be with her, to have her physically here with me. I still look at that picture that was taken at Christmas last year, a candid picture of me and her outside while the kids were playing. She was so happy then, always smiling.
Even though Daddy and I realize now that the signs were already there that the disease was really started to progress, we still had hope then. Hope that she would beat this disease. Hope that there would be something out there to slow it down.
I didn’t even think then that she wouldn’t be here with us the next year. There is something pretty crippling and devastating to your soul when hope is crushed and replaced with grief.
But, we made it through our first holiday without her. Admittedly, a lot of it was just going through the motions for the sake of the kids, but we made it through.
“There is something pretty crippling and devastating to your soul when hope is crushed and replaced with grief.” Carrie, these words are the absolutely perfect way to describe our situations. You put words to the way I have felt for the past two and a half years. We also had such hope that Gage would beat his horrible disease. And when he passed away and what was left was grief, I felt so beaten and broken. And while I will always grieve the loss of my sweet boy, a tiny ray of hope is starting to emerge from my soul again. Through awareness with my group and with your group and all the others, someday soon our voices will be heard. Please, please do not hesitate to write me anytime.
She will always be in your heart and mind, holidays included, but the crushing pain and grief will ease with time. I don’t know that it ever disappears, but, it does ease.
Your friends here (above) have left such wise words and I hope you find some comfort in them. I’m glad to hear that you found some peace throughout this holiday season as you deal with the void.
Well I think you have accomplished your first big step, which was getting through the holidays. There will be many more steps to come, of course, and each one will hit you in a different way. Just remember that there’s no “right” way to go through this — and that people love you no matter what.
Bridgette just told me about Hannah and I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. I was lucky to spend a little time with your special girl and only wish I could have helped more. Best of luck to you and your cause.