Regrets at the Holidays By Jo Winkowitsch

Once I had an older brother.
This picture reminds me of that, and of happier days.
For a time there were only two of us kids. Two and a half years apart. I remember pretending to ride horses with him on the arms of our chairs, and ruling an empire with him outside our house. We had many fun times.
But that was before…

Before…

Before our father fractured our family with emotional and physical torment so that my favorite place in my house was curled up alone on the floor of my bedroom closet reading with a flashlight.
Before my brother and I had problems we couldn’t work out or talk about for many years,
Before my brother had a heart attack at the age of 30 something and got heart disease because of it.
Before I only saw him a couple times a year, at the holidays, for my mother’s sake.
Before my daughter died, and my family of origin got even more disconnected and broken.

I have regrets.
The holidays remind me of them.
I wish… I wonder… What if?

I wish sometimes that I had reached out more to Don and gotten to know him better. At his funeral so many people talked about how easy it was to be his friend. After our difficult start and painful years together, friendship seemed something unnecessary and impossible.  I wonder now if it really was.

I have time now. I am retired and free from the busyness of life. I wonder what adventures we would have if he were still here.

I wish I had a big brother now, to share memories with from our childhood. We never did talk much about those days, except to try to mend the deep disasters of our lives together.  I have heard that if you lose a sibling, you likely lose your childhood past… for they grew as you did and experienced the same kind of things. Your parents, even if living, have a different perspective on things, and your friends certainly can’t understand what it was like for you. So you are left to remember on your own the details of days which often need help in finding clarity through a sibling’s memories.

I am glad that he and I reconnected a bit before he died at the age of 50. We knew it was coming, as his heart had stopped several times and he had been resuscitated. But we didn’t expect him to go so soon. I regret not having a big birthday party for him the last couple years of his life. Regrets stink because there is insistent pain in the regret, and it is sometimes difficult for me to forgive myself for what I wish I had done differently.

So why do the holidays bring these regrets and pain? I think it is because the only happy times I have in my childhood are from the holidays. Good food. Travel to my grandparents, to see cousins and play football in the snow when I didn’t even know what football was. Books to read over the holidays. More leisure time on our farm. Don was there. I remember.

These days I still have joys with my own family and friends. But Don is missing. He has been gone for many years. In my heart I wonder what it would be like to have him get to know my grandchildren, and for my children to get to know him as adults.

I have found some things which have helped me as I work through regrets at the holidays.
Perhaps they will help you, too.

1.  I found that I have to admit my grief.  If I don’t admit it, I feel like I can get stuck in grief. But sometimes it is difficult for me to give myself permission to cry or mourn. I have had to watch sad movies, at times, or read sad books, to help accomplish this.  I look for healthy ways to express myself. I try not to rush through my moments of grief. 

2.   Being thankful in the midst of my pain has helped me to try to find good things that come out of the pain. There are always things I can learn. Since I have regrets, one of the things I try to do is live so that I don't have regrets, going forward. 

     3.  I look for different ways to celebrate the holidays.  There is togetherness and solitude. I like both. Especially when I am sad, I need to find some time to sit alone and think and ponder my feelings and thoughts. 

     4.   I have to remind myself that emotions come and go. In times I feel hopeless or helpless, I try to remember that those times are only a season or piece of my life.   There are stories of hope and faith that I can remind myself of that encourage me. 

     This year, as I work on being grateful for what I have, in the midst of my yearning for what I cannot have… I believe that this article is a way to connect and come out of my “closet” to say hello to the world while being honest about my pain.  Blessed are those who mourn… blessed are those who get on the outside what is on the inside. And I remember I am not alone.