Trying to figure out how grief works -- honestly

I haven't been completely honest with you this week, and I feel guilty about that.

I wrote the blog about my mom's birthday on the night before her birthday. At the time, I felt optimistic that this birthday would be easier than past ones. After all, this would be the 6th year my family has been through this. And I strongly believe that time heals.

But sometimes that's all just bull. The day comes, and it's as sad as it ever was. Dad and Jordan both get stubborn and argue with each other. I play referee and ask them to be flexible, to get along, to stop fighting. We can't agree on anything: the time to meet, whether our dog Sadie should come or not, what restaurant to eat at afterward. We drive around aimlessly and end up at a diner none of us want to be at. But really, none of us want to be anywhere on this day. As my dad says, "It's not a good day."

I don't want to tell you these things because I want to believe -- and I want you to believe -- that it gets easier with time. Part of that is true. But I also think we need to accept that some days just suck. And often times those days are birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. They're just hard. Even 6 years later, I have trouble admitting that because I just wish I felt better about it.

Grief has a time delay sometimes, too. I got in a big fight with Mark on Tuesday and bawled my eyes out. How much of that was leftover stress from Mom's birthday? It's really hard to tell where one emotion ends and one emotion begins.

I'm sorry if this isn't the sunshine picture I usually paint. But I believe in being honest with you. I hope you'll be honest with me, too.

Big shout out to my girl Ashley who started a blog about surviving from a rare form of liver cancer. She's so brave in so many ways! Go give her some comment love.

From a special guest blogger: "I miss buying my mom Hanukkah presents!"

Hi, my name is Michelle Hersh, and Marisa has kindly offered to let me share a little bit of my story with you.

I am an almost 40 (shhhh!) year old living in the Midwest and Marisa is a 20-something living on the East Coast. What we have in common is that we both lost our fabulous moms to pancreatic cancer. It is rare even at my age to find other people in my general age category who share the pain of losing a parent and even rarer to find someone who has lost that parent to pancreatic cancer. We would rather have our moms here and never have heard about pancreatic cancer, but since that is not the case, we are making the most of it and are becoming fast friends!

My mom, like Sally, was the life of the party, my biggest cheerleader, and the center of our family. My mom Barbara died at 65, two years ago on November 27, 2006. Even amongst tragedy and death the calendar keeps moving on and so do others around you. When a death first occurs, you just want to scream to people in general "Don't you know my mom just died, how can you be carrying on with your life?" Well, carry on they do and in time you find yourself joining them.

Hanukkah was always a fun time at our house. As kids, my sister Marci and I would sneak around for weeks ahead of time trying to find my mom's hiding places. Seeing if we could cajole my dad into giving up a little hint as to what we could expect in our pile of presents. We would light the menorah and open a present (or two!) for eight nights. What I remember most was that my mom would be as excited for us on the eighth night as she was on the first. She delighted in gathering the perfect presents, festive wrapping and seeing us happy. It did not matter if we were 2 or 32 – her enthusiasm was the same.

As I got older, my gift giving to my mom turned from hand made cards and school projects to finding her equally coveted and thoughtful gifts. Apparently she thought the cards to be most important because as I went through her things after she died, she had kept every single card or letter she ever received from not only me, but my sister, my dad, her parents, her siblings and the list goes on. I don't think that she looked at them very often but she had them.

Now, I have them and I do look at them. Each time I do it is like a little present for me because I get to share a memory with my mom even though she is not here to laugh with me. On second thought, she is probably laughing at me, since that makes me more sentimental than I would have ever let on!

Since my mom died, we have tried to move forward with holidays to the best of our ability. It is very hard not having the one person who was most excited about everything here with us but we are settling into a new groove – another part of our "new normal".

We still buy piles of presents for each other, not necessarily extravagant, but a volume of things because that is what mom did. She liked to see the floor covered in presents and seeing that space bare would be too much bear.

Enjoy your holidays! Remember time spent with your loved ones, make new memories as you will cherish them in the future and I promise you that if I can get through it, so can you!

I wear the (Christmas) pants in this relationship!

I promised I'd tell you about my holiday plans, so here goes...

Even though I'm 100% Jewish, I've always celebrated Chanukah and Christmas. Whenever friends tease me that Jews order Chinese food and go to the movies on Christmas, I say defiantly: "Not me! I celebrate Christmas!"

It started when I was a kid. My cousins Susi and Julia celebrate both holidays, so every Dec. 25 my family traveled from Long Island to Brooklyn to take pictures by the tree and exchange presents. I even had a pair of red and green plaid pants (stylish, I know!) that I dubbed "my Christmas pants!" After my mom passed away, we continued going to their house. Each year, at least one relative would say how strange the holiday felt without my mom. Who knew a Jew would be missed on Christmas!

As a teenager, I also started celebrating Christmas Eve. My best friend Laura's family invited me to their house to indulge in homemade Italian food, Christmas carols edited to include family jokes, and the most delicious cookies I've ever eaten. My favorite were the peanut butter-chocolate kiss ones. Yum!

Last year I began a new tradition. I traveled to Colorado to spend Christmas with my boyfriend Mark's family. On Christmas Eve, after Mark's 6-year-old nephew went to sleep, we all tip-toed downstairs to put our presents under the tree. Never before had I been able to play Santa! The next morning we woke up to a white Christmas. A foot of snow covered the yard and giant snowflakes fell slowly from the sky. It was the most picturesque scene. Imagine me -- a little Jewish girl from Long Island -- seeing a white Christmas in Colorado!

This year Mark and I will travel back to Colorado for round 2 of Christmas with his fam. Tingles of excitement (OK, and 10% nerves!) flutter in my stomach. I'm happy for another chance to get to know everyone better and spend time together. I also love who Mark is in his home state. There's a calm and warmth he never quite achieves in busy-busy New York City.

Do you have any advice for visiting your significant other's family?

How do the holidays make you feel?

Good evening. I hope you're keeping warm on this rainy night.

Now that it's mid-December, the official holiday countdown has begun. Commercials nag me to buy gifts, neighbors put up crazy lights (one house plays "Jingle Bells" at a dog whistle pitch!), and coworkers ask how you'll spend your time off.

Chanukah, Christmas, and the New Year evoke strong feelings in most people. And for anyone who's grieving, holidays can be just plain hard. Let me be the first to say: I hear ya!

Over the weekend, I'll post again and share my thoughts and plans for this season. But right now, I'd love to hear what you're doing, where you're going, and how you're feeling.

P.S. If you don't feel comfortable posting a comment publicly, you can post under "anonymous" or you can e-mail me at marisa.bardach@gmail.com.


Photo courtesy of krisdecurtis, flickr.com

Gobble, Gobble... Gulp.

Turkey Day has always been my favorite holiday. Ever since I was a kid, my family has piled in the car and driven to Connecticut to spend a few days with my mom's relatives. Especially as a teenager, the trip was a mini-vacation. I helped name the turkey ("Tom" usually won), stayed up late engrossed in a novel, and enjoyed the break from my drama-overload friends.

But now, without my mom, it's different. Holidays can be hard for anyone, and they're especially tough when you've lost someone close.

The first Thanksgiving without my mom was the worst. My dad and I drove for three hours in near-silence. For the first time in 20 years, I sat shotgun. I hated it because it reminded me she was gone. Before the feast, at a table surrounded with 10 of my mom's relatives, Uncle Stuart cleared his throat: "Let us pray for our dear, sweet Sally. We miss you and love you." We all ate with lumps in our throats.

It sounds cliché, but each year really has gotten easier. I'm most thankful to two angels: my little cousins Jamie and Greg. Last year, on Thanksgiving morning, I overheard the two of them plotting my wake-up call. "You tickle her feet!" Jamie whispered. "No, you do it!" Greg begged. Little fingers attacked my toes as I giggled and tickled them back. When you wake up laughing, a good day is practically guaranteed. I can't wait to see them again this year. (They're the little rascals giving me smooches in the photo!)

Are holidays tough for you? What makes them easier? Is there anything special you do to remember the person you lost?