17 Nov The Light of Darkness

For many people, and especially for those who are actively grieving, this is a very difficult time of year. The clocks have been turned back, the darkness of night seems to begin to descend each day at 3pm and the nights are long. The evening and night hours can be brutal for those grieving the death of a loved one, allowing for empty space, trouble sleeping, and too much time to think. 

We are also in the “holiday season” and apparently have been so since about September. The term holiday season is one created and used by the media and retailers of our society: It is meant to entice us to spend money, be with family and friends, and put a smile on our faces, even if we are sad or miserable inside. Black Friday sales started in October and the barrage of “good cheer” can be overwhelming and deeply saddening.  Whether this is your first year without your loved one, or the 10th or 20th, this is a time many people dread and have a great deal of anxiety about. 

I was pondering the “holiday season” and started to question what was being imposed on us. Halloween is now a “holiday,” Thanksgiving is around the corner and Kwanzaa, Hanukkah and Christmas are fast approaching behind that. But should this time be considered a season? If we break down the actual days that are celebrated, it’s two, three, or eight days, depending on your faith and traditions. Although I usually encourage people to think outside of the box, in this case, it may be helpful to put each “holiday” in a box, so it doesn’t feel so overwhelming. 

When the dark falls over our hearts, our daily lives, and our outlook to the future, it can be helpful to look for the light. You may feel that there is none at this time because your grief doesn’t allow you to even attempt to see it, but it’s there. 

We have been blessed with some extended warm weather (I know it’s due to climate change – another kind of death) and it’s hopefully allowed you to be outside in the light, even if it is lessening each day. The sky has been showing us its spectrum of blues, pinks and oranges and the bright sun cascades through windows, lighting up every crevice throughout the short days. 

As I drive to work each morning, literally over the river and through the woods, and over a mountain, the scenery sparkles in the waters and softens in the far reaching views. The bare trees allow the light to shine through, and the last of the brown leaves dance across the streets in the wind, as they look for a place to nestle for the winter. 

The crystal-clear night sky brings us many opportunities to see bright light. As of this writing, a full moon passed by last week and illuminated the way through the darkness, and it continues to shine brightly, exposing the secrets of the fall woods, and covering us like a white down comforter. If you look toward the northeast sky in the evening and early night, you will see Capella, a large intriguing star that flashes red, green, and white, and seems to dance to some cosmic type of music. 

It can be helpful to remember that each of us carries our own light within us, even if we can’t see it or connect with it at this time – it never goes out. It may be covered up with grief, anxiety, sadness, or exhaustion, but it continues to flicker, even if just barely, as we trudge through the difficult days. Our deceased loved ones also carried their light, and now we carry it for them – imagine the culmination of lights, coming together to create more than a flicker, but a flame or even a bonfire! Sit with this image and see if it brings you comfort or peace, even for a moment. 

Of course, soon we will begin to see holiday lights and displays, some religious, many others secular. I marvel at some of the enormous and extravagant displays in some front yards – inflatable reindeer, Santa Clauses, candy canes and other characters. When I pass by such a display, I realize that some people really enjoy this time of year; the decorations, the gatherings and holiday hustle and bustle. It may be helpful to take in even a small bit of their light and joy, even if you’re not able to do so this year yourself. 

If you are in the deepest hole of darkness and don’t know that you’ll ever find your way out, please reach out to a friend, family member, BAH, or call 988 (the new national mental health crisis line). You are surrounded by people who can help you through this dark and lonely time and we want your light, no matter how dim now, to continue to shine and grow. 

It may be impossible to find your own light and hope, so please allow others to see it, and hold it for you, until you are strong enough to do so for yourself, and that day will come! We are here for each other and no one is immune to grief and pain, we are called to join our lights together and support each other in the radiance we all carry with us and out into the world. 

On behalf of myself, the BAH staff, the Board of Directors, and our volunteers, I bid you peace and light in the coming weeks. 

Warmly, Lars

From the Nov/Dec 2022 Seasons, BAH’s bereavement newsletter