The Empty Chair at Our Holiday Table

When you lose a child, your life changes forever. There will always be an emptiness, a missing piece at the family gatherings – the empty chair at the table.

This time of year is full of so many emotions. I have always loved the holidays and the time spent with family. But since my son’s passing, my initial thoughts are, It’s another holiday that he won’t be here with us.

Sal suffered from substance use from his early teens, never getting the full treatment he needed due to insurance barriers. In June 2010, he went into a facility and was released after only 17 days because his funding ran out. He stressed to us that he wasn’t ready to leave and needed help. Sadly, we were only able to get him into Intensive Outpatient Treatment (IOP), which he attended three nights a week. Sal was doing great. We were enjoying our summer with him and happy to have our son back. On his 90th day sober, he left our home to go to IOP. At 3:37am, the police came to my home to inform me that Sal was found in my car in another town. He had died from an overdose. We were told that it appeared Sal was not alone in the car when he died. Whomever was with him did not call 911 to save his life. Instead, they left him alone to die.

I lost a piece of my heart when Sal died.

The holiday season was soon upon us. I wondered, How do I get through this?

Initially I wanted to stay in bed and let the holidays pass by. Cuddled deep under the covers watching Lifetime movies, dozing off, crying, screaming, repeat.

But as the day went on, I came to the realization that Sal would never want me to stay in bed. Christmas Eve was a special time for our family and I knew deep down it would break my son’s heart if I gave up. I love my son with all my heart, but I have a daughter and grandchildren and, as hard as it may seem, life does go on. Memories still need to be created. Every moment from this day on is important because we, more than anyone, know that life is too short. In an instant, our lives changed, and who’s to say that that can’t happen again? My motto is to live each day to the fullest not only for me and my living family, but also for Sal.

I know that a lot of people initially feel guilty about enjoying a holiday. But if we stay in bed, then who is there to keep our child’s memory alive? I vowed to myself and my son that his death would not be in vain, and that I would forever honor and remember him. With that promise and with the help of my family, Sal is included in every holiday.

I’m not going to tell you how to grieve during the holidays because we are all different. But here are seven tips I’ve learned and want to share with you:

  1. Do what is in your heart and what makes you comfortable – and do not to worry about what others think or say. There is no right way to celebrate the holidays after the loss of a child.
  2. Acknowledge that the holidays will be different and they will be tough.
  3. Talk to your family and share your feelings on how you want to spend the holidays. Be honest. Tell them what you do want to do and what you don’t want to do. You may wish to continue longtime traditions or you may want to start new traditions. Do the things that are special and important to you.
  4. Do the best you can. Our friends and relatives often think they know how our holidays should look, and what the family should or shouldn’t do. Whatever choice you make, stand by it and don’t apologize.
  5. Keep in mind that even when we feel moments of pleasure, we are still grieving. The grief is there and will always be there. However, it is okay to take a break from your grief. Sometimes we don’t allow ourselves to feel any pleasure because it feels like we are betraying our loved one who died. Don’t be afraid to have fun. Laughter and joy are not disrespectful. Give yourself and your family members permission to celebrate and take pleasure in the holidays. Turn your grief into something positive that will make your child look down and smile.
  6. Honor your loved one in whatever way you can. Share the love and pride you have in your heart at the holiday table. (See some ideas below.)
  7. Keep in mind the feelings of your children or family members. Try to make the holiday season as joyous as possible for them.

It is important for me to embrace the time Sal was with us. I want others to focus on the kind, gentle and compassionate person he was, and I do that in a few different ways during the holidays and special occasions:

Remembering promotes healing. Once others realize that you are comfortable talking about your loved one, they will be more open to sharing stories that will add to your pleasant memories.

Here are some other ideas for creating new traditions:

It’s not the grief you want to avoid, it’s the pain of the loss. Grief is a necessary part of the process, a way to get through the pain. There are no words to describe the pain of losing a child. When you lose a child, nothing is ever the same again. Every aspect of our lives is based on our child’s memory.

I am not happy every day of this holiday season. There are many times that the grief overtakes me and I just need to go to my quiet place where I shut down and allow myself to grieve. These days are a struggle. When we see families who are complete and sharing special moments together — moments that have been stolen from us, moments we cannot get back and will not have again.

So yes, I grieve through these days and I still cry and scream and ask, “Why, why my baby?” I may never know the answer to that question while living this life, but I will continue to ask it through my cries. As crazy as it seems, I find myself believing that this was Sal’s destiny. His life was short on Earth, but because of his short life, other lives are now being saved.

Because of the circumstances of Sal’s death, I began to advocate in New Jersey for passage of a 911 law, the Overdose Prevention Act, which allows individuals to call 911 to report an overdose without fear of being arrested.

I made it my mission to ensure that every police department in my county carries Naloxone to assist them in reversing overdoses and saving lives. I also go into Camden, NJ, at least four times a year to hand out 911 information palm cards and backpacks with essentials to the homeless who are struggling with addiction.

All of this gives me the strength to move forward. I turned my grief into a journey of helping to save other lives and help parents. I do this to honor Sal. My son was very compassionate and truly an old soul who cared deeply about others — so it makes sense to me that saving lives is what I need to do here on Earth.

I’m not going to say I’m the life of the party but, yes, I smile, I laugh and sometimes I cry — but I’m there and I know my son is smiling.

Thinking warmly of each of you and wishing your family an extra measure of comfort, joy and hope this holiday season.