Each year, when we think of the holidays, we think of a celebratory season filled with love, laughter, and creating memories to last a lifetime. However, for those who have lost a parent, this season hits very different. While most are purchasing gifts, perfecting holiday menus, or choosing festive attire, another group sits on the opposite end of the spectrum, preparing to endure a difficult and bittersweet season. Unfortunately, I’ve experienced both sides of the coin.
This year marks a decade since I lost my mother during the 2014 holidays. A tragic car accident in 2013 left her hospitalized for 14 months, with countless injuries as a direct result of the life-altering car crash that shattered me and my family’s life in the worst possible way. To provide context, the accident happened just months after my mom’s 60th birthday and only 36 hours after my family and I spent an amazing weekend together in Washington, DC, celebrating a family friend’s 40th wedding anniversary.
I still vividly remember my mom’s big, beautiful smile and the kisses she blew to me and my sister out the window as she and my dad dropped us off at the airport and continued their road trip back home. This image is permanently etched in my memory and one that I hope I will never forget, as it was the last time I saw my mom alive, able-bodied, healthy, and full of life and charm.
Then, a phone call changed it all and nearly tore me apart. My mom was patiently sitting at a red light, waiting for it to change, when another car plunged into the back of her car. The impact instantly snapped her neck and spine, leaving her bedridden with quadriplegia, a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), the inability to speak except through her eyes (one blink for “yes” and two blinks for “no”), and in a coma. The accident wasn’t her fault. She did everything right—so how could it all go so wrong?
I immediately questioned God, struggling to understand how the same God I’d worshipped my entire life could allow such a tragic and sudden loss.
My mom was vibrant, cheerful, and, as many described and continue to describe, a beautiful soul. The anguish and despair I felt after my mom’s death are difficult to put into words. The emotional weight I carried was heavy; my heart literally and figuratively hurt. It was shattered into a million pieces that took me on an ongoing rollercoaster that never seemed to slow down, and no amount of comforting words could help heal, or nice gestures could ease the pain. I became disconnected, simply existing rather than truly living, lost in the motions of daily life.
At first, during those 14 months in the hospital, I was hopeful, prayerful, and optimistic for a miracle. But once she passed away on a cold winter evening, my heart turned just as cold as the ice that took over the streets in my hometown in Ohio, where my mom took her last breath. I immediately questioned God, struggling to understand how the same God I’d worshipped my entire life could allow such a tragic and sudden loss.
Losing a parent is a challenging experience. The pain runs deep, and the void will never be filled. It’s a club I never wanted to join. Unfortunately, many across the world share this with me. It took years after my mom’s death to find beauty in the pain, especially during the holidays. But the tragedy that darkened my heart has now breathed a new purpose into my life. My mother’s death has given me the inner strength to move forward fearlessly and live, love, laugh, and appreciate this life just a little more. Through the lens of gratitude and several therapy sessions, I’ve learned that unimaginable grief can lead to an unexpected transformation.
Therapy helped me to express my thoughts and feelings without judgment. Honestly, if it weren’t for my mom’s passing, I probably would have never sought treatment. But I needed help—and I needed it badly. At first, it was hard to open up to my therapist because of the stigma around seeking counsel and my inner doubts: “How can she really help me?” But, my therapist helped me in unimaginable ways. Once the floodgates opened, the tears flowed, my heart began to heal, suppressed feelings surfaced, the heavy burden was lifted, and I gained a new perspective on the circle of life. I leaned back on my faith and started meditating, journaling, and reading much more. If I’m honest, my mom’s death opened my eyes and heart, making me more sympathetic toward others—something I had struggled with in the past.
The hardest lesson I’ve learned is that the true manifestation of love in its highest form is found in the journey of healing after trauma and loss. It’s about embracing gratitude, not as a forced positivity but as an intentional choice to find passion, purpose, and growth despite immense pain. Once I realized that this journey wasn’t just about healing within myself but also about recognizing the interconnectedness of the world around me, I began to embrace the ebbs and flows of living with grief. Instead of fighting the unexpected tidal waves, I began to flow with the complexities and no longer allowed them to take hold of me. I was finally in control despite the internal chaos.
If you’re feeling down and out this holiday season, remember that grief is love with no place to go—until you find a way to let it out.
Though her physical presence is irreplaceable, the visits from my mother in my dreams are a testament to her spirit. It’s a reminder that her love transcends and continues to nourish me in more ways than one, even in this new and unexpected form.
So if you see me laughing uncontrollably, giving grace to others when it seems undeserving, smiling spontaneously, or drinking my water and minding my business, just know that I’ve fought a long, hard battle to get here, to a place of peace. That doesn’t mean I don’t have my moments; grief is a lifelong journey without a time limit or a clear roadmap. But I’ve learned to embrace it as part of my story. However, it does cause you to search for meaning. If you’re feeling down and out this holiday season, remember that grief is love with no place to go—until you find a way to let it out.
I know it’s easier said than done, but please don’t forget you are not alone on this journey, even if it feels like it. Trust me, I know this firsthand. There is a way to get to the other side of grief to balance sadness with moments of joy, even during the darkest days. The holidays aren’t what they used to be, but they now serve as a beautiful reminder of my mom’s smile, warmth, and laughter and the memories I’ll forever cherish and never let go of.
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