Soft melodies of “Bring on the Rain” fill the air, replacing the usual festive Christmas tunes. My favorite apple-scented candle flickers warmly, and the sharp scent of pine is absent from my surroundings—much to my relief, as the winter snow does not blanket my world this year.
It’s hard to believe that another year has slipped by without my parents. On December 23, nearly 14 years ago, my mother succumbed to a prolonged struggle with metastatic lung cancer. A year and seven months later, I faced the loss of my father. In between those heart-wrenching moments, I also experienced the sorrow of losing a baby. During that time, I was in my early 20s, newly married, and transitioning from college life to the working world, filled with dreams and aspirations.
Everywhere I turn, echoes of my past surround me. The twinkling lights in the windows, cheerful family photos on social media, the familiar aroma of Chanel Number 5 at the mall—even the scent of pipe smoke can evoke tears. I often try to conceal my inner turmoil behind a smile, but some days are undeniably more challenging than others, and December 23 is especially difficult.
Many of you know exactly what I mean. You may have also lost loved ones during this festive season. While others revel in joy and laughter, you might find yourself wishing to curl up under the covers until the holidays fade away.
After my father passed away in 2002, I felt adrift, lacking the steady support my parents provided. They were my biggest advocates, and their absence left a void that felt insurmountable. While my husband and in-laws were incredibly supportive, they struggled to fully understand the depth of my grief.
For those facing similar losses, there are various avenues for support. Hospitals and community organizations often have grief support groups. I found comfort in seeing a grief counselor during the initial months following each of my parents’ deaths. One effective coping mechanism was journaling, where I poured my feelings onto the pages, eventually transforming those entries into a book. At times, I allowed myself to simply embrace and experience the emotions.
As the years have passed, my daughters and my husband have become my daily motivation. To be honest, there are days when they are the sole reason I keep moving forward. When my girls were younger, I often wished I could pick up the phone and seek my mother’s advice. I found myself wondering when I should expect them to walk or talk, how to cope with sleepless nights, diaper rashes, or a sick child. Unfortunately, I could never ask her those questions, and I don’t even have a baby book to reference.
Recently, during an interview with a local reporter named Sarah, promoting my book, she remarked, “I never knew you were an orphan. You’ve never mentioned it.” She was right; it’s not a secret, but I tend to keep it under wraps. I notice that once people learn of my situation, they often look at me differently, with an uncomfortable air.
If you find yourself in a similar situation, know that you are not alone. I understand your pain and respect the good days alongside the bad. Sometimes, I wish I could share a tear with you. Yet, we often hold it all together for the little ones we’ve brought into this world. We carry on through the most challenging memories, hoping that time can help heal our deepest wounds.
In a few hours, I will light a candle in memory of my mother, as I do every year. I will share stories of my parents with my daughters, passing on the invaluable lessons they imparted to me. Just like the rain, December 23 will eventually pass. Until next year.
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Summary
This article reflects on the journey of living without parents, particularly during the holiday season. The author shares personal experiences of loss and grief, emphasizing the support available for those facing similar challenges. Through journaling and the love of family, she navigates her emotions while honoring her parents’ memory.