Last week my cousin suddenly passed away. His name was John. He was the eldest cousin of the grandchildren and the family comedian. He was a brother. He was a dad of twins - a boy and a girl. He was a friend. 

I know this pain too well. 

On September 21, 2011, another dear cousin suddenly passed away as well. Her name was Toya, and although she was my cousin (My grandmother and her mother are twins), we were nine years apart and grew up like sisters. Toya and I were roommates at the time of her death and I took it hard. The rest of 2011 was a blur, with the exception of me traveling to New York City in October and Thanksgiving. 

It was the first holiday after Toya passed. I can’t remember who hosted Thanksgiving that year. It may have been my cousin Tessa - Toya’s sister. We seemed to be doing fine as one by one, family members made their way into the house. But things took a shift once it was time to eat. My cousin Ara stood up and began to give a toast. I can’t remember exactly what he said, but when he mentioned Toya’s name I felt a lump rise in the back of my throat. Tessa ran out of the room to the bathroom and I followed her. We cried in the bathroom as a heavy cloud of grief hovered over us. This was our new reality for the holidays. 

I couldn't fathom how my amusing cousin who lit up every room she entered could be deceased. Death and Toya, was like oil and water. In my head it didn't go together and I was having a difficult time accepting what naturally didn’t mix. The cousin who made family games more fun, wouldn’t be there to talk smack during Spades or Spoons. The cousin who knew all of the words to all the new songs, including the dances to go along, was gone. The favorite cousin. What’s a holiday without the favorite cousin?

Years later I was married and had given birth to a baby girl. I still desperately missed my cousin, but I was focused on creating new holiday traditions with my family. It was Christmas Day, and my husband and I were driving to his grandmother’s home. As we pulled up, a wave of sadness came over me and tears began to fall from my eyes. As I searched through my feelings, I explained to my husband how his family structure highlighted how broken, but blended, my family structure is. My husband’s grandparents have been married for over 70 years. His parents have been married for 45 years. Holidays are a bit more simplified when your parents are still together. My parents divorced when I was 7-years-old. I never knew my maternal grandfather and my paternal grandfather passed away when I was 12. Holidays are a bit more intense when your parents are divorced. Do I spend Thanksgiving with my mom and Christmas with my dad? Do I spend half in the suburbs with my mom and interrupt my holiday by driving 30 minutes to spend half in the city with my dad? Having a child made it more difficult, because grandparents don’t play about seeing their grandbabies on the holidays. I love my broken/blended family, but sometimes the holidays cause me to grieve what could have been. 

The holidays are my favorite time of the year. I listen to Christmas music all year round. My daughter and I started watching Christmas movies in October. Our Christmas tree goes up BEFORE Thanksgiving. It truly is the most wonderful time of the year. But the holidays can also be reminders of the loved ones we’ve lost and the life we dreamed of having. 

There’s no perfect way to end this. However, if you find yourself in this sad, yet jolly space, you’re not alone. 

We can be grateful AND grieving. Jolly and sad. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, but give us a second. 

As we untangle the Christmas lights, I pray we’re able to untangle the many emotions the Holidays bring. And when we delicately place the star on top of the tree, I pray we look to the true light of the Christmas season to restore our hope. Isaiah 9:6.

Your Favorite Cousin,

Nikki