Welcome back (or welcome).
“Finding Words in Hard Times” is a newsletter with stories and tools to help you be more comfortable as you help others in hard times.
Last week I said I was going to give you some suggestions for navigating Thanksgiving.
But I wrote about “grief and the holidays” a couple years ago.
And then I wrote about “five choices for a bit more celebration” last year.
So when I started to write a newsletter for this year, one thought came to mind and wouldn’t leave me alone. Start the conversation before the event.
We approach holiday gatherings not sure what to say, not sure how people will react. But what if we started some of those conversations before we show up? Notes from hosts to guests, from guests to attendees, from people to people.
Like this conversation:
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Hey Jim.
I’m guessing that you are worrying about our gathering on Thursday. I am, too. I’m guessing you are thinking about how hard the emotions will be, about how clueless Uncle Ed is going to be, about what it’s going to be like to see little kids who will ask you questions.
I’ve been thinking about that, too.
Feel free to come whenever you can. We’re not going to make your arrival be the center of the day.
Let me know when you are close. Helen will meet you at the car. We’ll pretend it’s to help carry things in, but it’s mostly so you don’t have to walk in by yourself.
On the other hand, if you want to come before everyone does, we’d love to have you get comfortable with the space, and with us.
I know that we ALWAYS start with saying something we’re thankful for. That’s an unnecessarily hard tradition. I’m thinking that we can end the meal with talking about what’s been helpful this year.
Does this make sense at all?
Jackie.
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Hey Jackie.
Thanks for your note. It’s nice to know that someone is thinking through what’s hard. You know that I’m thinking about that all the time.
You know that I’m thankful for you and for the support, but I really like the idea of not having to make a speech or be on the spot. So the idea of reflection after we eat makes sense to me. And if I happen to go get something from the car about that time, don’t wait.
There are a couple things you could help with, I think.
You can say her name. Everyone is afraid to mention Ellie these days. As if it will remind me of my grief. But you know I’m always thinking about her. It’s helpful to know other people are thinking about her.
On the other hand, I’d rather not be asked how I’m doing. If anyone asks, I’ve decided that my answer will be, “I’m only crying 8 hours a day now, and I only punched a couple people last week.” I know that people want to be the one person who can cheer me up. But it gets old.
And, I’m getting tired of grief experts and sure-fire strategies and happy-ending stories. This is, simply, hard. And I’ll ask.
Thanks again for asking.
Jim.
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Hey everyone.
I’ve been thinking about our gathering next week.
It’s been a rough year for our big family. And, honestly, the last thing we need is to worry about having to be together.
Some of you are wondering whether Jim is coming. He is. And he’s bringing his memories of Ellie with him. You can bring yours, too.
Sammie is wondering about being in the same room with Frankie after the election. Frankie’s wondering the same thing. I’m confident that you two can talk about IU football and mocking me.
Jamie’s bringing a friend this year. Remember that the sarcasm we think is so carefully crafted is often, honestly, rude or mean or incomprehensible. So imagine that Grandma Hazel is here, welcoming and laughing and serving biscuits that fill our mouths and melt our hearts.
I’m still not sure how she did it. Losing her sister and her parents in three months to tuberculosis and then marrying her grieving brother-in-law would have been rough.
And yet. She made the best biscuits.
Maybe we bring Hazel stories this year. And Ellie stories. And Sammie stories and Frankie stories and Jamie stories.
Maybe we don’t have to win this year. Maybe we stop expecting so much.
See you soon.
Jackie.
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Thanks for stopping by.
I haven’t decided about writing next Thursday, but I’ll probably send you something. Because, after all, I’m pretty grateful for people who are on the other side of this screen. (Here’s a message I left for the people who have bought me coffee this year.)
Have a week. Get some rest.
Jon