S1/ E5- The Firsts After Child Loss: Facing Life Without Your Child

In the midst of the Holidays, The First Time Since talks about those events, favorite places and special occasions that we experience for the first time since losing a child, or anyone close to us. Simply living life day by day will reveal moments of remembrance that can trigger sorrow, pain, anger and more. But this can feel overwhelming during the Holiday season. If only to know that you are not alone with your avalanche of emotions, maybe this episode will give you a glimmer of connection with another grieving parent.

Transcript

Bruce: 0:36

Welcome to Don't Forget to Breathe. I'm your host, Bruce Barker. This is episode five, and I call it the first time since. I thought it was time to talk about what many of us dread the holidays without someone we cherish. You know, while this podcast series primarily focuses on my journey after losing a child, what has become very apparent to me is as we enter this particular holiday season, it's that with the impact of this global pandemic, there are far, far more people who are experiencing a holiday without someone they love. It's a tragic time in our living history that has caused so much pain, stress, anxiety, depression, and grief. You know, life is not easy. It takes a lot of work. And navigating daily life through a pandemic just makes life even harder. But throw in the unexpected loss of a loved one, and life goes from not easy to almost unbearable. So as I said in the introduction episode, this is not a how-to podcast. I'm just hoping that by hearing my journey struggles and experiences, it might give you a glimmer of feeling that you're not alone. Some of my early strategies in dealing with the holidays may have worked for me at the time, but as I've learned, they were not a long-term benefit nor a path to healing. But they worked for me until they didn't work. Now, when I originally started writing notes about the period in my life back in 2007, I called it the year of firsts, experiencing special events and places during that first year after my daughter died. These were obvious events like her birthday, holidays, or special occasions. But it was also places or experiences we shared. As simple as a particular beach, a movie theater, a restaurant, a park. But what I learned after the first year was it isn't just the first year of going to or being at a particular place that would challenge my emotions, that would trigger a powerful grief response. In my case, there were many places I didn't happen to revisit until years later, and the memories of Kristen and I at these places still hit hard and still required work to get through. I remember the first time I watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade after my daughter died. It was heart-wrenching. I mean, to this day, when I watch a parade, especially in person, though that's not been the case this year, but even so, especially in person, I will at some point get a little choked up. It's just a flood of emotion that comes over me when I hear the marching band and see them wave to the people lining the parade routes, or seeing kids in the crowd light up, you know, when a float goes by or a clown waves at them. I mean, not the scary clowns, those are still creepy. I think it's just emotions slipping out of that wall that I've created that kept them in. But when you see pure joy and innocence, they just come out. And while watching the beginning of this year's Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade last month, the tears flowed again. But this time, I felt a little smile showing up during those tears as I thought more about those shared memories with Kristen. So I'd call that progress. But going back to that first Thanksgiving without Kristen, I watched the parade, made my Thanksgiving meal for one, and tried to watch a little football. I somehow managed to get through that day, but then the thought of Christmas looming just a few weeks away. I told myself that there was no way I was going to do Christmas. No tree, no decorations of any kind, not sending Christmas cards, and changing the station if I heard Christmas music. I mean, just avoiding anything that had to do with Christmas. That was my plan. So what did I do on Christmas Day? Certainly, I didn't look outside to see kids in the street with a new bike or in their yard playing with new toys. None of that. I didn't want to see any of that joy that related to Christmas. So I came up with a plan. All the best movies of the year would come out on Christmas. So I looked up my favorite theater and I planned out the entire day of movies, from the first feature that started around 10 o'clock in the morning until the last showing, which was closer to midnight. So I bought my tickets to go from one movie to the next, eating hot dogs as my lunch and dinner and popcorn all day. I got to the theater when it opened up, and I didn't leave until the last movie was over. Then I drove home, went to bed, and just like that, Christmas was over. This was my plan, this was my strategy each Christmas, and it worked. Or so I thought. So throughout that first year, each time I would find myself somewhere for the first time since Kristen and I were there, it was hard. Emotionally challenging and draining. In March 2007, eight months after Kristen died, I took my new lacrosse team on our spring training trip to Walt Disney World and the wide world of sports complex in Orlando. We arrived at the Orlando airport and bam, back at that airport, the first time since. As I mentioned in episode one, I was in the amusement park industry for many years and lived in Orlando for quite a while. I had years of meeting Kristen's flights in this airport from the time she was three. My mom would travel with her until she could fly on her own. I had park mascots come with me to greet her. Um, when you know when she'd get off the plane, we'd have balloons and surprises. It was always such a joyous event. Then there were the countless tears. Every time I took her back to that airport to catch her flight back to Louisiana. Laughter and heartache were the norm for me at the Orlando International Airport. And now I was back with 18 very excited high school girls eager to play lacrosse and explore the Disney parks. And I was battling my emotions to stay focused on my responsibility as their coach and seeing and remembering so many times there with Kristen. The next day we got a break from our training and scrimmages and went to the park, and bam, the ride on the monorail, walking into the entrance of Magic Kingdom, this ride, that ride. My heart and head were spinning. There were moments when I had to step away, knowing tears were coming. Kristen and I spent countless hours at the parks. Again, seeing the girls so happy and feeling the sorrow of missing my daughter all mixed together. It certainly was a trip I'll never forget. And after that trip, that's when it hit me that there would be more moments like this that I would experience throughout that year of first. The summer of 2007, when I went back to the Vale shootout without Kristen. That was extremely hard. I wasn't even going to go until several other lacrosse vendors, um, you know, that I got to know over the years, and and they also got to know Kristen every summer, convinced me to come back. If nothing else, they said to honor Kristen. So back to Vale I went, and I rode that emotional roller coaster again. Then July 26th came, and that was the first anniversary of Kristen's passing. I mean, it was a brutal day of sadness and anger and depression and despair. But then I thought the year of first was over. But that that wasn't the case. Kristen's birthday was in October, and that was very hard, not any easier than it was the year before. Then the holidays were back. Same routine for Thanksgiving, not a whole lot easier. Then Christmas rolled around. Again, no tree or decorations, but my movie plan went off without a hitch. Then in March 2008, another spring training trip to Florida, but this time to a facility near Cocoa Beach. Same arrival in Orlando, then vans to Coco. A couple of our activities were going to Cocoa Beach and then to the Kennedy Space Center. And there at the beach, it hits me again. The flood of memories with Kristen when we'd drive to the beach. This beach. Then again at the Kennedy Space Center, where we had been several times before and spent so much time on the causeway watching shuttle launches. It was another emotional trip. But once I was back in Denver, I reflected on the many places Kristen and I had been, all the things we had done together over the years. And that's when it really occurred to me and became clear that the year of first was actually going to be far longer than just a year. So what would I do each time I found myself in another place we shared? Could I just avoid them all? That wasn't realistic. I mean, Kristen and I covered a lot of geography in the years of visits and trips we made together. Each time I would step into that shared place, shared memory, it would be a challenge, even painful. I made a decision that I needed to endure and push through those encounters, if you will, in order to recapture those events, those places and even those celebrations. I needed to get those places back for myself to take them back. That's not to say I'm cutting Kristen out of the memory, far from it. But just doing the work to take ownership again of that place, that event, that memory. It is a purposeful exercise each time I find myself somewhere for the first time since, but at least I try. The only exception to that plan for many years was Christmas. I just couldn't go there. It was too painful, too emotional. And that's probably what many of you are feeling right now. Here we are in the midst of the holiday season. And for five years, the movie day was a solid strategy for me to avoid Christmas. But that all changed in 2011. I was blessed to get remarried in the summer of 2011. I won't get into a lot of particulars involving my new family since that isn't just my story, and I want to honor their privacy. But what I will say is that during the Christmas season of 2011, that flood of suppressed and buried emotions were harsh. I mean, they were hurtful and devastating to the people around me that I love. I learned that my Christmas avoidance strategy that I thought worked for the five years prior was in fact a ticking time bomb. You see, one can bury painful emotions and ignore them, not not think about them. But basically, all the things that you're tied into feeling grief and you try to bury they don't decompose. They don't decay. They never go away over time. They linger, they fester, and actually grow. And at some point, as I learned in 2011, they erupt with the fury of a volcano. And anyone in the path of that eruption gets hurt deeply. So each holiday season since, it has been a hard battle to to take back the holidays and find joy again. Not only find joy, but to actually feel joy and live it again. But it did begin to gradually get better. Gradually is the key word here. I did various therapies and grief groups at different times, but it just wasn't enough. I wish I had actually done more focused grief counseling early on, stuck with it, but I didn't. However, that is something that I am doing now. And here is a tiny example of the change I experienced this year. Just a couple of weeks ago, I went to the grocery store by myself and I caught a whiff of that cinnamon Christmassy smell, I guess is the best way I could describe it. Um you've probably heard you've probably smelt it. It it was a display of those scented pine cones. And I stopped, grabbed a bag, took a deep breath of it, and then I put it in my cart. Why? It smelled like Christmas. I took it home and I placed it in the living room where we would soon put up our tree. So, podcast listener, I'm actually feeling a bit like Christmas for the first time in 14 years. And why now? Was there some therapy or tools I used to get to this point? Can I put my finger on what happened? What moment defined the turning point and how I viewed Christmas? Right now, I I can't tell you. I just I can't tell you that. I can only say that it just seemed different this year. So you might ask, Bruce, how does that help me with the dread I feel with the holidays, with a birthday, a trip to the beach, the mountains, or any number of events I will experience without the person I love and miss. And I don't have a perfect answer for you right now, but I will have a grief recovery specialist joining me on upcoming podcast. She and I have spoken at length, and we will dive deep into discussions, tools, and more of our own experiences that we hope will help you continue to navigate your grief. But for now, I'll say this. If you think the Christmas all-day movie plan sounds like a good idea for that first year, then go for it. It might help. But please don't do what I did and fall into that trap of repeating that strategy of avoidance year after year, burying the hurt, anger, and sadness. It will come back to bite you at some point, just like it did to me. Another observation approach that event or place you shared with a purpose, with an actual plan to take it back, to recapture it, take ownership again. That beach was there before, and it will be there again. So take it back. That park, that store, that airport, that ski slope, they were all there before you created that memory with your loved one. Now take that space back. Remember, you aren't cutting them out of that memory, but you are putting yourself up in front, stepping forward, so that the particular bench where you sat and talked, it's your bench again. Now it's not necessarily an instant change, and it will take time and intentionality, but I think the more you practice this taking back strategy, the less anxious or even paralyzed you may feel when facing the first time since. I know this was a rather short episode, but it's a pretty heavy season, and there's probably a lot to think about.