(Apologies in advance for an insanely long blog post. ~Elizabeth)
 
I am a huge Josh Groban fan. I’ve loved his music since I first saw one of his earliest PBS specials. When I came out of my years of silence, his was some of the first music I found myself able to tolerate. On the nights when I was going through horrible intestinal pain that would last for untold hours on end but my now ex-husband was unwilling to be there to hold my hand and support me through that hell, it was the music of Josh Groban (and others) that I played on repeat all night long to keep myself as calm and relaxed as possible. His albums are still my default when I am dealing with pain that medication and meditation cannot control.
 
I have been battling health issues for 13 years; I was all but bedbound for two of those years and homebound for six. Slowly I have been fighting my way back to health. After successfully attending an event at a local church in September, I realized that I probably could start attending live theater and concert events again. This was something that I hadn’t expected to do be able to do for another several years, and it is a huge milestone for me in my healing journey. Fortuitously, my 15 year old daughter is taking a costuming class as an elective this year, and she’s required to go to a live performance every six weeks, anything from a free one person poetry reading in a coffee shop to a Broadway musical. As I looked for options for her (and me) to attend this school year in Austin, I found that Josh Groban was coming to Austin in October and that tickets were all but sold out (two individual tickets available in different balcony sections). I was crushed. I was talking about this with one of my health practitioners who encouraged me to look on Craigslist or to just show up the night of the show to find tickets from someone who needed to sell.
 
So back in October the week before the concert, I was looking at Craigslist for tickets to see Josh Groban. I was thoroughly annoyed at the number of businesses scalping tickets, but after a few days I eventually I found some seats on Craigslist for original purchase price located in the back of the orchestra section that were being sold by someone with a death in the family. As I sat there debating buying them, I got an intuitive hit to go check the concert hall website where I'd unsuccessfully looked for tickets previously: When this happens, it feels like there is someone in my brain loudly saying, “GO LOOK AT THE OFFICIAL SITE!” When I searched this time on the official site, there were two adjacent front row orchestra seats available (plus two adjacent seats a few rows back from that). This was actually fourth row seating because the pit was covered and three rows were added, but it was still close enough that my daughter commented after the show that Josh had a loose thread hanging from the back of the blue suit jacket he wore in the first act that was bugging her. (Yes, she is Type A, and yes, I do know which parent she got it from. Sigh. :) )
 
Josh Groban got seriously ill with a lung infection in October and had to reschedule the Austin concert. I knew when he canceled his New Orleans show a few days before that there was a huge chance that he would cancel Austin as well; I began praying for a reschedule because I didn’t want to lose those amazing seats I had gotten! When the rescheduled concert was set for December 19th, I looked at the calendar and discovered that my ex had just bought Star Wars tickets for the exact same date at the same time for the kids. Fortunately my daughter was able to grasp the concept that she could see Star Wars any time but Josh Groban wasn’t going to be available to sing at any other time. Her cousin took her Star Wars ticket, and our girls’ night was back on, just delayed by two months.
 
Last night, after overcoming all the hurdles of a disabled individual trying to attend an event at a major auditorium, my daughter and I were finally in the theater. Honestly, I sat there in shock for a bit with my hands shaking, so amazed that I was actually in Bass Concert Hall once again. A few years ago I would have said that this might never be possible. If Josh Groban had decided not to sing, I would have been disappointed but I still would have gone home incredibly happy because I simply made it into the theater. That’s how huge of a deal it was that I went last night.
 
Fortunately, though, Josh Groban performed last night despite a “full-blown sinus infection” which he claimed had him performing at only 86% though I don’t think anyone in the audience would have noticed if he hadn’t shared that information. I certainly wouldn’t have! His music was every bit as amazing as I expected it to be in person, and I enjoyed every minute of the evening. I didn’t take notes as I wanted to be fully present in and enjoying the moment, so my retelling of the evening probably has the setlist in the wrong order though it’s somewhat close to the original experience.
 
While I was expecting to be powerfully moved by this concert since Groban’s recordings can leave me in tears depending on the day, what I didn’t expect to happen was that the evening became a life review for me. As song after song unfurled, images from my life, past, present and future, marched through my mind’s eye. Some of the songs that weren’t favorites before suddenly took on totally different meanings as I found new, deep, and very emotional acceptance about parts of my life.
 
Josh Groban walked onto the stage opening with “Pure Imagination” from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a song that speaks to me of the innocence of childhood. I spent my childhood with my head in a book, the safest and happiest place for me to be, though I was actually kind of freaked out by most of Roald Dahl’s books. Groban followed this with “Try to Remember” from The Fantasticks which was the school musical in my sophomore year of high school. While our El Gallo sounded nothing like Groban, the memories still flooded back to me of that time in my life when I was the stage manager and one of my still current friends ran one of the spotlights, terrifying me by scrambling up to its rather unsafe perch. This, too, was a time of partial innocence. While my life was far from happy, I still had my health, and in no way could I foresee the struggles ahead of me in life. Only three months after that production, I began my 22 year relationship with my now ex-husband.
 
After these first two songs, Josh Groban began talking to the audience. My daughter had asked before the concert started if Groban would be doing anything about Donald Trump like he did on Jimmy Kimmel. I told her that I doubted it, and while she was disappointed in that answer, she was not at all let down by the other humor that Groban amused his audience with between songs. During this first round of talking, he explained that he knew that Bass Concert Hall was probably named after someone with the last name of Bass, but he preferred to think of it as one of those talking bass fish like the ones he gets from his aunt for Christmas each year. After having an amusing conversation with an imaginary talking bass, Groban then said for the first of two times that evening that he was highly medicated. I still can’t imagine being able to perform that well while medicated!
 
From there, Groban sang “Old Devil Moon” accompanied by an Austin trumpeter. The song has been going through my head since then including when I woke up during the night. Groban was subsequently joined by the incredibly talented singer Lena Hall for the duet “All I Ask of You” which he sings with Kelly Clarkson on the Stages album. Hall performed a solo afterward, singing “It’s a Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World” originally sung by James Brown. I could tell my daughter was really impressed with Hall’s singing as she was Googling Hall during intermission. I listened to the song thinking about the strong woman I have had to be to survive this life and knowing that my daughter is also a strong young woman, filled with self-confidence, who is going to be able to make her way in a world where women often still aren’t treated as men’s equals.
 
As he had promised earlier yesterday on Twitter, Josh Groban began a few of the songs that he has not performed on tour or in recent history starting with “Dulcinea” from Man of La Mancha. That was probably the low point of the evening for me; both my daughter and I found the red moving images on the curtains behind Groban to be disorienting and distracting. Groban also sang the first of two Christmas songs he performed last night, “The Christmas Song.” He introduced the song by saying that his album Noël (2007) had been very successful, but after its success, he was very Christmased out and didn’t want to sing Christmas songs again until now. I found this amusing because when I announced to my sons that I had bought tickets for Josh Groban in concert, my youngest asked, “Is that the guy who sings Christmas songs?” It made me realize that I play Noël around my kids far more often than any of Groban’s other albums though it’s not the album I listen to most often by any stretch of the imagination.

To close out the first half of the evening, Groban sang “What I Did for Love” from A Chorus Line. This song was one of the most moving parts of the evening as the song touched a pain in me I hadn’t known was there. As I had been thinking about my love of theater throughout the evening, I realized during this song that it was something that my ex-husband had never truly shared. He came with me to various events, but he never understood the joy they brought to me nor the passion they ignite in me. Like many other things in our relationship, that power of music and theater was something that I abandoned, and now I am regaining that lost part of my life again. Yet despite what I gave up in my relationship with him, I looked at our beautiful daughter sitting next to me, and the lyrics “Won't forget, can't regret/ What I did for love” hit me hard. Everything I put myself through in my relationship with him and everything I sacrificed was worth it for the three amazing children we are raising. Though I wish I hadn’t gone through so many years of emotional pain in a toxic relationship, I would never give up the blessings of my children.
 
The second half of the evening was no less entertaining than the first. Josh Groban began after the intermission by singing his medley of “Children Will Listen/Not While I’m Around.”  This opened a whole new level of emotional processing for me. As I had dressed for the evening, I tried putting on a labradorite pendant, but I couldn’t do it. I was intuitively being told that I had to wear my clear quartz pendant. I didn’t understand why until this medley when my heart chakra began aching terribly as the music released a great deal of stored emotional pain and the crystal helped fill the emptiness it left with healing white light. The release continued through the next few songs. This medley in particular forced me to acknowledge how horribly painful it has been for me not to have had someone on the journey who would tell me “Nothing's gonna harm you/ Not while I'm around.” This journey has certainly been one where “demons are prowling everywhere,” yet it’s one that I have had to fight without the support of a partner.
 
Rejoined by Lena Hall in a different sparkling dress than she wore before, Groban sang the duet of “If I Loved You” with her; I actually enjoyed their version more than the one with Audra McDonald on the Stages album. As I listened to these lyrics, once again I was shown some of the happiness that awaits me in the second half of my life just around the next bend. I am impatiently waiting for the day when I have a partner for the first time in hundreds of years who will love me in the way captured so beautifully in the lyrics of this song. Lena Hall then followed this with another solo singing “Maybe I’m Amazed” by Paul McCartney and which she had recorded in honor of her father, a huge Beatles fan.
 
Moving on to another set of songs not on the Stages album, Groban announced he would be singing another Christmas song. Someone from the audience screamed out, “O Holy Night” which would have been my choice had I been able to vote on the song selection. To accommodate that request, Groban instead offered up a short version of Eric Cartman of South Park singing “O Holy Night.”  It was truly remarkable; Groban is a better Cartman than Cartman I think. (I also believe this is the point where Groban again blamed his medication again for his actions.) Having somewhat satisfied the audience member’s request, Josh Groban moved on to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” which he dedicated it to the troops who are not able to be home for Christmas as he does on Noël. During the song (which is actually my least favorite on Noël but which I enjoyed last night), I was flooded with an understanding that Christmas will never again be for me what it was in the past. It’s still a very fun event with my children who so far this year have put R2-D2 in the manger in lieu of the Baby Jesus, but it will never be the Christmas of my childhood again.
 
The next offering was “Unusual Way” which is from the musical Nine. As Groban related yet another one of his very amusing stories which in no way is captured by my summary, he said that this song was recorded but not released on the Stages album. He had seen Nine live with Antonio Banderas, and he was close enough to grasp one of Banderas’ chest hairs (ok, not really) and make a wish on it and now he was on a stage in Austin singing this song. “Unusual Way” is a song which I had never heard before but which is now on my playlist of favorites. I hope Groban releases the recording of it on a future album! This song again lead me to reviewing scenes from my past while simultaneously having an understanding of what is to come in my future.
 
When I was leaving my house for the concert, I had meant to put a wad of facial tissues in my purse because I was afraid that if Groban sang “Anthem,” I would melt into a puddle because his rendition of that song makes me cry every time without fail. Fortunately or unfortunately, “Anthem” was not on the setlist since I forgot to stock my purse. However, one of the last songs was the one which left me in tears, and not too unsurprisingly it was “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” from Les Miserables. Groban dedicated it to the victims of Paris, San Bernardino, and all affected by the recent terrorism and violence in the world. For me, it brought on a reflection of all those from my life who are no longer alive, a melancholic reflection that often happens for me around the holidays anyway.
 
As his closing song, Josh Groban sang, “You’ll Never Walk Alone” from Carousel. If the tears hadn’t already started during the previous number, they would have commenced here. This was a song that had never particularly hit me when listening to the Stages album, but it’s now my favorite. Over the past year and especially in the last months, I have struggled with how lonely my journey back to health has been. Few of my friends have been strong enough to make it all the way through the years of illness. When I was separating from my ex-husband 4.5 years ago, I was terrified by the prospect of being alone in fighting the health problems, but what I rapidly learned was that I had already been facing it all on my own for a very long time. It was actually easier to fight the health battles without him in the same house as me draining away more of my energy. Yet that still hasn’t made it easier to walk this path alone. Finding faith and hope that I’m not truly alone has been the hardest challenge for me, especially in the recent months.
 
I’m also at a point where I’m deciding if I am going to be able to go forward in life without a wheelchair. I can walk, but on my bad days, trying to go more than a few feet is draining in an inexplicable way for those who haven’t traveled this same path I am on. So hearing Groban singing about walking, even in the metaphorical sense, prompted more tears. If the choice were just between attending events like this amazing one or not attending them, then I would have no hesitation in getting a wheelchair. However, it’s so much larger of a decision with so many other implications and issues attached that the decision isn’t simple. Thus, I was hearing something in the song that I suspect most other people in the audience didn’t hear: I was trying to understand if the “golden sky” is just around the corner or if I’m going to be living with this level of limited mobility for the rest of my life even once my health battles are done.
 
As the audience gave the first standing ovation and waited for Josh Groban to return for an encore, I couldn’t believe the show was over. It was like I had blinked and the evening was over. I felt like Groban had only sang a few songs until I came home and listed everything and realized it was really a longer evening than I thought! I also went into a bit of shock again. I had done it. I had attended a concert from beginning to end at Bass Concert Hall. I was so amazed and proud of myself for having conquered this hurdle. All I had left to do was get home which actually turned out to be easier than I feared.
 
Josh Groban returned for an encore with “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” This song has never been the same for me since it was used for Mark Greene’s death on ER in 2002; it now carries a connotation of heaven and the afterlife. I’m sure Judy Garland’s youngish death also impacts the association of the song for me. Yet somehow I left this song with an impression and a hope that the second half of my life is going to lead me to happiness that I’ve never experienced in the first half. My journey through hell is almost over and I will be emerging on the other side, somewhere over the rainbow, in a much better place than I’ve ever lived in.
 
When Josh Groban returns to Austin, I will definitely be going to see him again. The privilege of hearing him sing in person was more than words can describe. Hopefully the next time he returns, the struggles I faced in getting to the concert last night will be a distant memory, replaced with an abundance of health and love.
 
© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

Bass Concert Hall is one of the the major performance venues on the campus of The University of Texas at Austin. I first entered its doors in 1991 in my first semester at UT as an undergrad to hear Maya Angelou speak. I had no idea whom she was before attending, but everyone I was friends with was going, so I went too (for free!) and experienced an unbelievably powerful evening that I will never forget.

Since then, Bass Concert Hall has been the site of many memorable events in my life. In 1996, my now ex-husband and I went to a Spanish guitar concert on gifted tickets from someone at the church I worked at. In 1998, we went to see an opera on gifted tickets from friends that were in the second to last row of the second balcony; we left after two hours because we were utterly bored and because my vertigo had become so horrific at that point. Feeling like Scarlett O'Hara, I vowed never to sit in the balconies there again! In 1999, my ex-husband walked across Bass’ stage to receive his doctorate, and I did the same in 2001. When our twins had weaned, we finally had a night out, going to see Les Miserables in 2002. We also saw Blues Clues Live with our kids. (Not exactly the best show I’ve ever seen, but our kids loved it.) In 2003, the last time I was at Bass Concert Hall, I was 37 weeks pregnant with my youngest when we went to see Dora the Explorer Live. As my 15 year old daughter and I sat within the walls of Bass Concert Hall last night waiting to hear Josh Groban sing, I was telling her the stories about all of those events as well as others in other theaters.

Since 2003, I have been terribly ill. For two years I was all but bedbound, and for six of those years I was homebound. I still am restricted by extreme fatigue, very high levels of pain and chemical sensitivities. This triumvirate has left me disabled and limited in where I can go and how long I can stay once I get there. Live theater productions have simply not been an option for me in a very long time. Only in the past few months have I reached a point where I can go to large gatherings such as a concert without getting very sick afterwards due to liver problems. However, my newest challenge in life is being able to gain access to buildings when my body is struggling to move. Despite the 25 year old Americans with Disability Act, many buildings still are not very accessible to the disabled.

Parking is a challenge for anyone on the UT campus. This is a fact of life that any Austinite knows well. When we arrived on campus a full hour before the concert, my daughter asked if there was a game at the stadium adjacent to the concert hall. I explained there is no way to hold stadium and concert hall events simultaneously at UT. There simply isn’t the parking. The chaos she was seeing was only for the concert hall. However, despite the fact that everyone deals with this situation, parking for the disabled is even more challenging when it comes to UT’s campus.

After I bought the tickets to see Josh Groban in concert, I looked into parking to see what disabled options there were. As I looked at the parking website, there were absolutely no instructions for people who are disabled as to what to do or where to park. When I looked at Bass Concert Hall’s website, there were no instructions there either even though one page claims to have “directions, parking, and accessibility info.” This is something that is free and easy to fix if one knows how to update a website. There’s really no excuse for a major venue not having instructions for disabled parking and assistance on a website.

I then called the 1-866 number for the parking website and got a customer service assistant who told me that I should buy a parking ticket in the San Jacinto garage. I asked him if he was in Austin, and he confirmed my guess that he was not. Anyone who knows anything about UT and/or disabilities would not have made that recommendation. Hence, I called Bass Concert Hall, and the woman there said that they tell people with disabilities to buy in the Dedman Drive lot (which is what I had planned to do but I was verifying my instinct). To my horror, the woman at Bass Concert Hall also confirmed there was very limited disabled parking and there was no way to buy or reserve disabled parking spots even with a state disabled parking permit. So while I had just spent $352 on two concert tickets, there was absolutely no guarantee that I would be able to get parking that would guarantee my ability to have access to the building. This seems outrageously wrong.

The day of the concert, I did almost nothing. I ran two loads of laundry so I would have clothes to wear. I ate food that didn’t require much preparation. I napped and otherwise stayed on the couch all day. This is what I have to do in order to have enough energy to attend an event like this. I stayed on the couch until 6:15 pm with my legs elevated and braced to reduce pain. I got ready to leave and departed the house at 6:30 pm. On the way there, we encountered not one but two accidents delaying our arrival time to 7:05 pm, almost a full hour before the concert. (And today, the day after, I don’t even have the energy to run a few loads of laundry. The couch is my best friend again for the entire day.) 

When my daughter and I arrived at the Dedman Drive parking, there was only one disabled spot left and only about 10 spots total available in the vicinity of Bass Concert Hall; all were quickly filling. The non-disabled spots had orange cones in front of them to reserve them for concert permit holders, so one had to get out of the vehicle to move the cones to park in them, another layer of difficulty for a person with disabilities who may or may not have an able-bodied plus one in the car. I chose not to park in the sole remaining disabled spot but instead parked a short distance away because I was in good enough shape that I could walk it that night, plus I knew it would make our departure easier by parking in the correct direction facing to get off of the campus. However, that one remaining disabled spot was filled by the time we had walked past it after parking.

When we got to Bass Concert Hall itself, my daughter and I went to the restrooms where there was already a line out the door for the women’s. The men’s, of course, had no such queue. The women’s restroom is on the total opposite corner of the building from where our tickets were. In future, I will try to buy tickets on the other side of the building. There really is only one women’s restroom on the main floor, something I wish could have been remedied during renovations a few years ago, but space doesn't exist to put one elsewhere. I knew there was no way I was going to make it back to the restroom during the intermission because I couldn’t have stood in a line of the length that would have been there at intermission. It’s simply not physically possible for me.

My daughter and I headed toward our seats at 7:15 pm. The auditorium, however, was locked until 7:30 pm. There was nowhere left to sit at this point as the benches lining the hall were filled. I am not capable of standing for 15 minutes, so my daughter and I sat on a staircase in a way that I was able to put my legs at a comfortable angle. At 7:30, we were able to take our seats and remain comfortably there until after the show was over.

I have three major suggestions for Bass Concert Hall, The University of Texas at Austin, and the services they subcontract with in order to be more disability friendly for patrons of events.

1. Put directions for patrons with disabilities on your website and/or include a phone number of a contact for those needing additional assistance.
2. Allow patrons to designate themselves as disabled when they purchase tickets or create a system of allowing patrons with disabilities to identify themselves upon arrival. Those who have done so should be allowed to have priority seating for events before 7:30 just as those who are disabled get early boarding for planes. This solves the problem of there not being enough seating in the halls for those who are disabled yet who have to arrive an hour early in order to get parking for an event. There was also a woman in my aisle who arrived later who normally used a walker; it was very difficult for her climb over all the people already in the row. She could have benefitted from advance seating as well.
3. Please designate the entire Dedman Drive lot immediately adjacent to Bass Concert Hall as disabled parking only until fifteen minutes before the event. Patrons should be required to have a state issued disabled parking permit or license plate to park in this area before that time. Tickets sold in advance for this area should require patrons to enter a disabled permit number or disabled license plate number. The current disabled parking available is severely insufficient for the number of patrons with disabilities (especially at events like last night’s which had a median age of about 50).

I have tickets to attend The Sound of Music at Bass Concert Hall in February with my daughter, and we are both excited about that. Last night’s experience will help me to have a better idea of what to do for attending this next event, but it would be nice if patrons with disabilities didn’t have to learn these lessons the hard way.
​
© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

When I opened my email a few days ago, I was greeted by a notification of a post from someone on Pinterest who had told me what an idiot I was to believe in the content of a picture I had repinned. The woman was very clearly someone who worked from a victim’s mentality, the exact issue that post was working to change in people who use that approach to justify any and all of their behaviors, even ones that they are very clearly responsible for. This type of person believes that she is a victim to her genes, her environment, her upbringing, and her education. She does not believe that she has any power to overcome those things. She thinks she is justified in any failings in her life because “they” made her do it.

My response to these posts is pretty simple: I delete the nastiness, and then I hit the block button. I have a zero tolerance policy for such abusive behavior. People who want to engage in intellectual debate of an opposing view? That’s fine. But when the other side attacks me personally, calling me an idiot for my beliefs, there is no learning going on. There’s only abuse. The person has absolutely no desire to learn or grow, only to lash out at a total stranger.

This woman then used my post as a platform for her very maligned views, ones that are exactly the type I help people work through and heal once they are ready. It’s not a view I will let stand as “truth” on one of my pages. She’s welcome to post her opinions on her own pages, but I won’t tolerate that kind of attack on me or others who are my clients.
​
These types of posts are rude, and they aren’t helpful to the person who put them up or to the person who received them. I don’t have to put up with that kind of behavior, and neither does anyone else on most social media. To try and convince her of another view would merely have been a waste of my breath and energy. I hope that one day she gets the healing she needs so she is not such a bitter unhappy person, but I will not be the healer to help her along the way.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

One of the causes of conflict around the holidays is the problematic phrase, “This is how we have always done things.” Traditions are wonderful, but there are times when traditions need to adapt and change. Human life is full of change, and as our lives change, so too do our traditions need to morph to fit the new circumstances.

One of the more difficult times for “what we’ve always done” is when a new member joins the family, usually through marriage. As a new family unit is formed, the extended family has to shift its traditions a bit to welcome and accommodate the new member who also is coming from an extended family. However, some families don’t welcome new members with love. Instead, past tradition becomes more important than meeting the needs of the present members.

When I married my now ex-husband, I entered into a small extended family, most of whom lived in the same metropolitan area as my family. My ex has no first cousins as his paternal uncle and maternal aunt never married. The grandparents had no extended relations in the area either. It was just a small family gathering at Christmas time.

In contrast, my paternal aunt’s husband (my uncle by marriage) was one of seven children all of whom had married and had children. For their clan to get together, it took considerable arranging. They had held their holiday gathering on Christmas Day for a very long time in order to accommodate all the involved people. As a result, my paternal relatives gathered on Christmas Eve. There was really no way to change the meeting to Christmas Day if we also wanted my aunt and her nuclear family to join us.

Thus, when I married into my ex-husband’s family, we let them know we would be spending Christmas Eve with my family and Christmas Day with his. His parents protested that we should spend Christmas Eve with them even when we explained the dynamics of why my family could not change their gathering time. You would have thought we had declared his family unworthy of any celebration. The verdict from his parents came down, though: They would be opening presents on Christmas Eve, and if we wanted to partake, we would cancel our time with my family and join them because “this is how we’ve always done it.”  

On Christmas Eve, we joined my family, and his family opened presents without us. There were no young kids involved in his family's gathering: I was actually the youngest one involved in the celebrations in that city. I was clearly able to wait a few more hours to open gifts, but the rest of them were not. What his family symbolically told us that year was that their traditions were far more important than making sure we were included. They were not going to change to welcome a new family member and her extended family into their world. They were going to do what they had always done and it was up to us to show our allegiance. Clearly I was annoyed (at best) by this uncharitable behavior. It had been painful enough to know that I was not welcomed with open arms to the family when we got engaged, but this further drove the point home that tradition meant more than current family members.

I spent the first 24 Christmases of my life in Missouri even though I only lived there for eight of those years. After one miserable Christmas in Austin, I returned to spending Christmas in Missouri for several more years. When my grandfather died, traditions changed again. I’ve never spent another Christmas in Missouri. And that is part of life. When change happens, it’s far more important to figure out what the loving thing is to do rather than trying to force a tradition onto a situation that may not be able to accommodate the ways of the past anymore.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

There is no question that the first holidays after a baby dies are difficult, just as it is with any person who dies. The first year without my grandfather (who died December 8th) at Christmas was difficult for all of us. But with an infant, it’s different. Holidays, especially Christmas, are supposed to be about the kids. It’s about their joy. My daughter Rebecca would have been 6.5 months old at her first Christmas-- the perfect age to love the paper and the boxes far more than anything they contained.

The first Thanksgiving after my daughter died, my now ex-husband and I took the escape approach to the holidays. We didn’t normally visit family for Thanksgiving, so instead we took a week long hotel camping trip to west Texas and east New Mexico to see Big Bend, El Paso, Guadalupe Mountain, Carlsbad Caverns, and White Sands. We spent Thanksgiving Day with a friend’s parents who were on their own, too, since the grown children lived in other cities. When we got about an hour outside of Austin, my ex broke down over the fact we were taking the trip without Rebecca. I tried to point out to him that if she had lived, we wouldn’t have taken the trip because there was no way I was taking a six month old on a float trip and caving, but my point was moot. His distress was just another part of grieving her absence. She wasn’t going to be with us no matter what we chose to do that Thanksgiving.

On Thanksgiving day, I got a positive pregnancy test. By Christmas, I was deep in the throes of all day sickness (falsely called morning sickness by some twisted soul). We also had two foster dogs in addition to our two canine family members; one of the foster dogs was very sick with what turned out to be distemper. The message that our families gave us that year was painfully clear: They didn’t want us to come visit them for Christmas. That was one of the hardest parts of the holiday. It felt like no one wanted to see us because it would have forced them to deal with their grief about our absent daughter. If we didn’t show up, they could pretend the whole thing never happened. The following year when our subsequent babies had safely arrived we were welcomed back in the fold. But that first year after her death, we were personnae non gratae. We were harbingers of death.

In years since then, we’ve done various observances to keep Rebecca’s memory alive and part of our family celebration. We have several Christmas ornaments given to us over the years by various friends that commemorate her life. We put an angel teddy bear on top of the tree. When the kids were young, we took Christmas pictures with an angel teddy bear (pictured above) in them, too, to symbolize her absence. We often adopt a child who is the same age she would have been the same age through a social relief organization to provide gifts in her memory.

Honestly, though, that first Christmas hurt like hell. There’s nothing that can stop that pain. All the remembrances help a slight bit, but there is nothing to fill the absence of a loved one. The only thing to do is feel the pain, grieve the loss, and know that one day things will be different. Each “first” is incredibly hard. One day, though, the pain will no longer feel so hellishly deep. There comes a point where if one does intense healing work, the memory of a loved one lost too soon can bring happiness rather than agony.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC