"grief & phone numbers"

Photo from Tofros.com

"Is it crazy of me to not delete my Mom's phone number by now?"

"My relative is telling me that I shouldn't be messaging my Dad anymore, but I feel like it helps me. What should I do?"

"I still pay for my parent's phone, but people are telling me that I'm not moving on with my life. Should I stop paying for it? It's not a cost issue."

These are questions I’ve seen asked often in online grief groups. Many people feel pressured to delete their loved one’s contact information from their phone, worried that others might think they’re crazy if they don’t. Some even continue paying to keep their loved one’s number active but feel discouraged by the idea of “wasting” money. Others might still text or call that number, only to receive judgment from others. (However, if someone else has taken over the number and informed you of it, it’s a good idea to switch to another form of communication, such as email, social media, or even old-fashioned letter-writing.)

But none of these things are crazy.

Society often encourages grievers to delete everything and move on, but you don’t have to follow that path if you don’t want to. You can still move forward with your life while maintaining a healthy connection with your loved one. If keeping your loved one’s phone number active brings you comfort and you can afford it, there’s no reason not to continue. If you find peace in keeping their contact information in your phone, then do so. If you still want to message, email, or text them (as long as the number hasn’t been reassigned), that’s perfectly okay too. You don’t have to delete your loved one to move on.

I occasionally send little messages and funny or endearing videos to my mom through Facebook Messenger, knowing she would have enjoyed them. Since we turned off her phone number a month after she passed, this has become my way of staying connected. At first, it was difficult to see that my messages were never marked as "Received" or "Read," but a friend offered a comforting perspective. She suggested I think of it as my mom "catching" the messages before they could even be delivered. I adopted that viewpoint, and now I find peace in seeing it that way. I also keep my mom’s contact information saved in my phone. While someone else probably has her number by now, it will always be "her" number to me, even though I know not to call or text it.

Ultimately, if it brings you comfort and is healthy for you, keep doing what you're doing. Don’t let anyone discourage you from maintaining a connection with your passed loved one. We live in a unique time where we can have a continued digital connection with them. While it may never replace talking to them in person or receiving a real-time reply, it can still offer comfort—and that is incredibly important during the grieving journey.

-j🌻

"Happy Birthday, Mom"

2024

Of all the "firsts" this year, my mom's first heavenly birthday was the hardest for me. I think it hit me so hard because, unlike other milestones like Christmas or birthdays without her, this one was entirely focused on my mom.

While I found some comfort in knowing she was celebrating the day with her twin sister, a deep sorrow weighed heavily on me. I had already cried several times before even getting out of bed. Still, I knew I wanted to celebrate her, and thankfully, my dad felt the same way.

Although the day was mostly quiet, my dad and I found small ways to celebrate her. We got a small ice cream cake for the evening, picked up her favorite birthday cake (which we had planned to use the following weekend for a bigger celebration with her son and granddaughter, though the weather had other plans), and grabbed her favorite mixed berry smoothie. Later that day, her granddaughter and I also celebrated her birthday digitally. It was bittersweet, but I’m so grateful we had that moment. Despite everything, I’m thankful we were able to celebrate her openly. To me, even though she’s passed, her birthday deserves to be celebrated, and I intend to continue doing so, regardless of what others have suggested.

That being said, if you choose not to celebrate your loved one’s birthday, that’s perfectly okay too. Some people prefer to mark the occasion quietly or alone, while others may choose not to celebrate at all because it brings too much sadness. I believe it's important to do what feels right for you, while also being considerate of those around you. For example, while I knew I wanted to celebrate my mom’s birthday, I made sure to check with my dad to see how he felt about it. If he had wanted to keep it low-key or skip it entirely, I would have respected his wishes and celebrated quietly on my own. Thankfully, he was on board, and I’m so grateful that we could share that time together.

Similar to Christmas Day, I found myself wishing for the day to end—not because I didn’t want to honor my mom’s birthday, but because I longed for things to "return to normal." I wanted to feel the comfort of my reshaped relationship with her, where her physical absence doesn’t hurt as deeply. That night, I spoke to her, as I always do, and read her birthday card out loud. I wished her and her sister a happy birthday and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Overall, I believe birthdays can be incredibly challenging without our loved ones. They often leave us uncertain about what society deems "appropriate" when it comes to celebrating or not. However, I think if you feel the need to celebrate, you should do so in a way that feels right for you, while also respecting others' boundaries and limitations. I'm sure your loved one would appreciate and understand whatever you choose to do.

-j🌻

"grief and the holidays"

2024

I decided to wait until after the holidays to share my experience and feelings about my first Christmas without my mom. I also held off because I was dealing with a respiratory issue (which I’m still struggling with), and it served as a distraction from the heavy emotions surrounding the holiday. As a result, I didn’t think much about how I was feeling leading up to Christmas. But before I knew it, Christmas had come and gone, and it still feels as though it never really happened.

general opinion

During the holidays, I believe it’s important to do whatever makes you feel most comfortable, if possible. If staying home alone, reading, and lighting a fireplace while you mourn feels right, that’s completely okay. If you prefer to go to a family member’s house and celebrate as usual, that’s just as okay. If you want to ignore the holiday and treat it like any other day, that’s perfectly fine too! If you feel pressured to celebrate but don’t want to, try to carve out some time to honor your grief or share your feelings with loved ones. I hope they’ll be understanding and supportive of whatever you choose to do. Your grief is valid and personal, so try not to let anyone make you feel bad for being sad, even on a holiday. And if you're open to it, sharing your grief can help challenge the stigma surrounding it.

my experience

For me, the focus was on making sure that my mom's granddaughter—my niece—had a Christmas that felt as close as possible to the ones we had celebrated together in the past (even though my wrapping skills were nowhere near as impressive as my mom's!). While I could have managed without celebrating the holiday, deep down, I knew that wasn’t what my mom would have wanted for her granddaughter. A big part of me also didn’t want that for her either. So, I shifted my grief from something that made me want to avoid the holiday, to something that fueled my desire to make the day special, "normal," and full of love—for my niece, my brother, and my dad. I also found ways to honor my mom and incorporate her interests into the holiday. Even though she wasn’t physically with us, she remained a significant part of our Christmas celebration, especially on Christmas Eve.

Christmas Day, however, was much quieter and more solemn. I found myself feeling deeply saddened at several points throughout the day. I continued my mom's tradition of making cinnamon rolls for breakfast and allowed myself to experience whatever emotions came my way. As the hours passed, I distracted myself with a few creative activities. I was genuinely grateful when evening arrived and I could finally go to bed—not just to end the day, but to look forward to returning to my new "normal" the next day, where my mom's physical absence wouldn’t weigh so heavily on my heart (thanks to the reshaped relationship I continue to have with her). There was also a sense of peace in knowing that I had done everything I could to fill her shoes, and I felt grateful for how happy her granddaughter was with everything. I also found myself with even more appreciation for everything she had done during past Christmases for me, her grandchildren, nieces, and nephews. I still don’t know how she managed to do it all!

closing

Overall, there’s no right or wrong way to spend the holidays—or the time leading up to them—when you’re grieving a loss. Whether you choose to spend the holidays alone, with friends or family, or even ignore them entirely, that’s perfectly okay. Whatever you decide, I’m sure your loved one will support your choice.

And don’t forget to take care of yourself during these special days.

-j🌻