It helped me Quicksand, when we did not know where our son was and were going to have a houseful for the holidays, to set a placesetting for him in my bedroom where no one would see. It seemed wrong to proceed with the holidays as though his absence was not important. It seemed equally wrong to ignore that his face was not one of the faces at our holiday table. Setting a place for him at the table didn't feel right, either. So, I set the place for him in my room and was able to ~ I don't know, really. It comforted me to do that. It was very hard for me to celebrate without him there, like what was happening to all of us didn't matter. But at the same time, it was Christmas, a time of celebration and gratitude for all that we did have. In setting that place for him in my bedroom, I was caring for him, in the sense that he was not forgotten, while no one else was made uncomfortable by an empty place setting.
It made me very strong, to do that secret thing.
Another thing that helped me was to light a candle for my son after everyone had gone home. It mattered to me, to do that. Knowing I had set the place setting, and knowing I would light the candle for him gave me a way to know what to do with my feelings, which were so confused and kept popping out of me at the most inopportune times. These simple things that I did for him made it possible for me to come through the dinner and all the sweet things that do happen at the holidays without breaking down over the one who was missing.
That was many years ago, and our son is doing well, now. But I still have those electric candles burning in my windows, symbolically lighting the way home for other kids who aren't with their families during the holidays. I still love to put them out, and it comforts me in some lonely place that still grieves for the pain of those years, to think about the other mothers, lighting candles for their children, too.
Another thing that helps me very much, even now, is something President Obama said at the State of the Union address. He was quoting a young mother who had described her family in this way:
"We are a strong, tightly knit family who has made it through some very hard times."
I love this way of seeing our families as strong, as loving and vitally present to one another in the face of whatever comes and no matter what it looks like.
I will think of your son tonight too, when I light the candles in my windows.
Cedar