It’s hard to be a grieving person during Halloween season. When you’ve had first hand experience with cemeteries, with violent crime or accidental death – you don’t need plastic lawn ornaments to remind you that death is everywhere.
I’ve been meaning to write about Halloween.
I’ve been meaning to write about Halloween since October 2009.
This is the first year I’ve seen other posts and articles about how ridiculously hard this holiday is for grieving people, and I’m so glad the word is getting out. All it takes is a few people telling the truth about their experience, and that opens the gates for others to speak up, too.
One dear friend pointed out this morning how hard it is to reconcile the cemetery where she takes her very young child to visit her father’s grave with the plastic headstones all over town, the scary way graveyards are depicted, not just at Halloween, but in many children’s stories.
If cemeteries are terrifying places, how can they also be the place they go to visit her father? Click To TweetOthers have talked of neighborhood yards full of hangings, of throats slit, of hands rising up out of vats of water. How horrifying this all is, when you have lived these things. When this is not seasonal ephemera, but a scene stitched into your heart and mind, a scene you have lived, for real.
The first Halloween season after my fiance drowned, I eyed the neighborhood decorations with deep, deep scorn. I was horrified at the surface death imagery, thinking of all the people I knew for whom images of death are not kitsch. How many things that set you on edge and touch into your grief are stitched into the everyday world, headstones and hangings, ghosts everywhere.
When you’ve lost someone you love, you don’t need Halloween to tell you that ghosts are everywhere.
What really got me that first year, as I wandered around the neighborhood with dear friends of Matt’s who were trying their best to include me in the “fun” was the vast disconnect between this party-like atmosphere around all things death and after-life, and most peoples’ real-life aversion to actual death.
I knew, from first hand, visceral experience that any true discussion of death terrified most people. They might decorate their lawns with monsters and ghouls, hang skeletons from their trees, depict gruesome deaths on their sidewalks, but real death? No way.
Halloween in this culture is lip service. As long as you don’t mention actual death, as long as it isn’t real, everything is alright.
That first year especially, the hypocrisy of Halloween hit me hard.
As I watched the neighborhood turn out in full costumed regalia, skeletons, ghosts, victims and assassins, I thought — if you only knew. If you could look into my eyes and know this, feel what I feel, if you could live what I lived, your paper gowns of alleged terror would fall apart.
Wandering the neighborhood that night, I wanted a button, pinned to my coat. A button that would invoke true terror, not the kind you can fold into a box to take out this time next year. A very small button that read: I am your worst nightmare. No costume required.
With so much of the world in pain, with so much real death everywhere, Halloween feels even more hollow. I prefer the seasonal roots of this holiday – a time to turn to those who are gone, to feel into the love we shared, and the love that remains. If this holiday is meant for us to engage with death and fear, I’d rather see real, honest, brave, conversations around death. I’d rather see us lean into our fear and come out with compassion, understanding, and a desire to not turn away from what is real for so many. That’s a holiday I could get behind.
How about you? How does this bizarre season of death imagery intersect with your true life nightmare? How do you care for yourself when the imagery is everywhere? If Halloween is something you still enjoy or find that you enjoy more now, tell us about that too.
And if you’d like to join a community that talks about this sort of thing, check out the Writing Your Grief course. No death-related lip service, just honest, real stories of living with grief.
I feel this first Halloween without my son is extremely painful as I am sure every first holiday will be. I am able to remove myself from the images of ghosts, skulls and others which regard death as simple as “boo.” I will trick or treat with my 4 grandchildren which includes my sons son. My grandson LJ. He always enjoyed this particular holiday with his father. It will be painful but necessary. I hope I will find the strength to let few tears fall in front of them. As this should be a fun time for them.
Halloween has been painful for me for some time now. I’m creeping up on the 5 year anniversary of my husband’s death this year. An aneurysm burst in his brain on 10/28/13, he was declared legally dead on 10/29 and on 10/31, his organs were harvested for donation. On 11/1, I received a phone call from my funeral director at the cremation society saying that she hated to be the one to tell me but my husband’s remains were “missing”. (Insert long story that includes me, a brand new widow, screaming at the organ donation people.) Due to an error by a new employee with the organization that took my husband’s organs for donation, his body was mistakenly left in the hospital morgue and not transported to be creamated as I was promised.
I try every year to appreciate Halloween the way I used to but as the dates I listed above draw near, along with this year being the 5 year milestone, I don’t see that happening again this year.
First off, I am a new widow, I lost my husband 9 1/2 weeks ago. I celebrate Samhain, which is the ancient Celtic roots of the holiday of Halloween. I look forward to honoring those who have passed on. Also, I work at a daycare center, so I celebrate Halloween the “modern” way, with costumes and candy. My take on this: do what feels right to you, and let everyone else do their own thing.
My 21 year old son died suddenly this summer. I will be in my basement on Halloween with Netflix on loudly, avoiding the day the as much as possible. I cannot manage to see little kids, especially little boys, traipsing through the neighborhood, right now. It’s too much for me this year.
Not only is it Halloween for myself, but also it would of been my daughter’s birthday. Her birthday is hard enough but it’s in my face everywhere weeks before hand. Shops, TV even Facebook. No escape. It’s very tough. I wish for a desert island for a whole month. My husband and I usually go out before the trick or treating starts. I just want peace and quiet and to be left alone with our memories.
Yes!!! My neighbors have a real casket on their porch. It makes me sad, afraid it will upset our young daughter (her father passed last year, he was shot), but I think it upsets me even more. It’s very awkward. I’m glad I’m not alone.
I know this post is old but only came across it now. See this REALLY bothers me. Your daughters father died last year after being shot and then only a short while later your neighbours put a ‘fake’ casket on their lawn for fun for Halloween…Absolute disconnect of human empathy and awareness of others if you ask me and very selfish. No doubt I will get someone saying ‘oh but sure if we were to be sensitive to every little thing we wouldn’t live’ but this is not the same thing.
My much loved husband died on 31st October (Halloween) last year. Everything was a blur.
This year, the first anniversary of his passing, all the skeletons and halloween decorations in the shops have been in my face ….. I will however set a place at the table, as I have done every year, for the spirits of those departed to visit …..
I prefer to Celebrate All Saints Day, November 1.