My sister’s unimaginable loss struck like a hammer blow – her husband and teenage son gone just before Christmas. When she begged me to cancel our holiday party, I wrestled with guilt but ultimately refused. “Your pain doesn’t erase everyone else’s Christmas,” I told her, immediately wishing I could take back the harsh words.
The celebration felt hollow from the start. Then came the crash from upstairs. I found my sister in the nursery, desperately gathering the baby clothes and toys she’d lent me – tangible pieces of the child she’d just lost. “You don’t understand what really matters,” she sobbed, stuffing memories into her suitcase while her surviving son looked on helplessly. The judgment in my guests’ eyes mirrored my growing shame. In that moment, I realized I’d prioritized tinsel and eggnog over human connection. Some traditions can wait; grief cannot.