As we headed into the 2021 holiday season, I was acutely aware of how different it was going to be from previous years. Before then, after the Jewish New Year, the fall and winter seasons were calming times for me, predictable routines that I both looked forward to and found comfort in. I would leave my apartment in the city and, like many, return home for Thanksgiving to spend the week in southern New Jersey with my parents, sister, and brother-in-law.
Depending on when Hanukkah fell, we'd light candles in person or on FaceTime (with my Jewish-adjacent brother-in-law impressing us all with his knowledge of the candle blessing) and then head to my aunt's house with my mother for Christmas. Except for 2020's change of plans due to the pandemic, these were the traditions of my holiday season for over 10 years.
2021 was different, though, because I was celebrating without my mom for the first time. My mother died in January 2021, and I was still dealing with the unexpected waves of grief that washed over me, sometimes out of nowhere. As I headed into that first winter holiday season without her, I wasn't quite sure I knew what to expect, other than everything was going to be very different.
My mother created the magic for so many family gatherings, and the thought of not having her there ever again actually took my breath away. We wouldn't be driving around looking at Christmas lights, or watching Hallmark movies together, or trying out new recipes. We wouldn't be eating mini kosher hot dogs and frozen latkes. We just wouldn't…be. I knew that our family must push forward, continue with traditions, make new ones, and hold onto memories, but it was just...hard.
I know I am far from the first person to enter a holiday season with grief and uncertainty. In addition to the death of a loved one, people are dealing with losses of all types, and many have not been given the opportunity to grieve properly. Some of us have had to forgo
, in-person funerals, pr proper gatherings with loved ones who could otherwise have supported us through the grieving process. Many people have been prevented from spending quality time with sick friends and family to whom they never got to say the goodbyes they would have liked. Some are not only grieving the loss of a loved one, but are also grieving the ways their grieving processes have been hampered and stilted by circumstances beyond their control. I should note that I understand no one's grief journey is the same; for me, the slowing down forced by the pandemic was also an opportunity to grieve intentionally.Maybe you are heading into this holiday season for the first time (or the second, fifth, or twentieth) without your loved one. Perhaps you're facing estranged or challenging family dynamics. Perhaps you were raised in an environment where there was no such thing as "warm holiday magic" and it's an especially difficult time. Whatever your situation, know that there is someone else out there who is experiencing this season in a similar way.
Jewish tradition teaches us the concept of l'dor vador, from generation to generation. I interpret this as a commitment to pass along to the next generation what is important. For me, that means a commitment to holding onto and passing along the parts of my mother I know made the world a better place: her sense of generosity, her humility, and the fierce loyalty she showed to those she loved.
Whether you plan to spend the winter holidays with your friends, family, or perhaps the chosen family so many of us work hard to create, I hope you can hold on to what brings you warmth and comfort. I won't tell you everything will be okay or that someday you'll feel better; I just want to affirm that sometimes things are just…hard, and I think that has to be okay.