Christmas was Tristan’s favorite. I know this not only from how important it was to him but because it’s a subject he spoke & wrote about, both to me and his friends. I even have an essay he wrote when he was around 10 or 11 (I’ll have to find it and post it here) where he outline our Christmas morning traditions & how much he loved them. Because of this I put a lot of effort into our Christmases & made sure that we were always together for it. Once he left Arizona & coming back would mean time on probation or possibly in jail, Troy and I would fly to wherever he was so spend the Holiday with him. The last few years we chose new places, New Orleans, Seattle, Mt Hood, and finally last year, Hawaii. I’d always bring the presents, wrapped brightly, and find a small Christmas tree to put up in our hotel or AirBnB & place the gifts under. I couldn’t find a tree in Hawaii so I hung a Christmas tree ornament over the gifts instead. As per our tradition, on Christmas morning we sipped hot chocolate, ate cookies & took turns opening the gifts. 26 Christmases with my boy…then suddenly never again.
This year I knew I would not be able to do Christmas, in any way shape or form. Maybe in years to come we will figure out ways to do it, but not this year. I wanted to run away from it, as far as I could. So when I was asked to sub as a Yoga instructor at a resort in the Caribbean over the Holiday I jumped at the chance! Somehow having a “purpose” to get up in the morning for at least a week would get me through this difficult time. And the views certainly didn’t hurt. There’s no magic pill or getaway that can take the pain away. But there are temporary distractions. Beautiful moments, busy hands & feet, things that get you through the hour, and those hours add up to another day you made it through.
I missed my younger son terribly, and there were moments I felt guilty leaving him alone on this first Christmas without his brother. But he understood & when we talked about it before I booked the trip he encouraged & gave me permission to go. He stayed and took care of Chico. And my family picked him up and included him in their festivities. It’s the best we could do this year. Now we are stuck in that weird period in between Christmas & New Year, feeling like this year went by way too fast and yet feeling like it was just yesterday he left this world. Feeling grateful the year is over & yet feeling afraid to go into a new year without him. I’m not ready to say he passed “last year” or to accept that 2023 will just be another year in the count of the years he lived & the years he’s been gone. I don’t know how to do any of this.
It’s all so confusing. You want to be left alone & yet you want to be with people. You want to skip Christmas & yet you want to celebrate it fully. We are happy for others yet we are sad for ourselves. It’s a convoluted mess that we don’t understand ourselves so how can we help others understand? I think this poem I read the other day explains it better than I can:
“Dear Society:
Please be kind to those with a broken heart this holiday season.
Please understand that they are doing the best that they can.
Please remember that there is no timeframe for grief.
Grief – in one form or another – will always be felt.
Please know that for some.
This is the absolute most difficult time of the year.
The depths of the pain.
Bursting at the seams.
Please be empathetic.
Caring.
And non-judgmental.
Please think about how you would feel.
If your everything.
Were no longer here.
Please extend a hand.
A hug.
And some love.
Please know that we may need you now.
More than ever before.
Please know that you cannot heal our grief.
Or our broken hearts.
Nor do we want you to.
Please respect our wishes.
And always offer us an invitation.
Even if we do not want to attend.
Please know that we are not jealous of your joy.
But that seeing others happy can be a devastating reminder.
Of the pronounced void that now exists.
Please love us.
Through our pain.
And above all else.
Please. #saytheirname”
~J.P.
Grief Graffiti 
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