An ornament from my parents’ Christmas tree that’s now on mine.

2007 was one of the hardest holiday seasons for me. Early that year, both my parents were hit by a drunk driver and died of their injuries. Sadly, through the Alliance Against Intoxicated Motorists (AAIM), I also know many people whose children were killed and who struggled with the first holiday season and every one thereafter. Less tragic but still extremely difficult situations like a divorce or job loss can also make the end of the year and coming new year hard to handle. And then there are the day-to-day, year-to-year issues that cause many of us to dread holiday meals. Thanksgiving dinner can be less about gratitude and more about refighting family battles, highlighting longstanding feuds, or prompting excessive drinking and related unpleasant behavior or, worse, tragedy if drinking and driving leads to a crash.

What’s important when feeling blue or more seriously depressed or anxious at the holidays is experimenting and finding what works for you regardless what tradition dictates. The most freeing thing for one of my friends was realizing there was no law requiring her to attend family holiday gatherings. From then on, her view was, “If you don’t like your family, find another one.” I’ve spent many holidays with friends rather than family for various reasons. Some people I know from AAIM changed holiday locations after their childrens’ deaths, choosing to travel for Christmas rather than staying home. Others invited friends for coffee and cake on Thanksgiving rather than hosting a traditional large family dinner.

Starting a personal solitary tradition can also be wonderful. A photographer I knew in my twenties found being with his parents very difficult and instead went out each Christmas morning at sunrise to take photographs of Lake Michigan. They were among the most beautiful pictures I’d ever seen, and his ritual struck me as wonderfully peaceful, sane, and happy in an often too-intense holiday season. During a few of the years after my parents’ deaths, I skipped some holiday gatherings entirely in favor or rewatching favorite movies or rereading favorite books. I found the familiarity and predictability comforting after shocking, disturbing life events, and I was freed of feeling I had to keep up a happy face. My favorite books to revisit run the gamut, including Pride and Prejudice, The Little Princess, Gone With The Wind, Atlas Shrugged, The Dead Zone, and The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe. I also like putting on a few CDs (yes, I still listen to music on CDs) and making a favorite food like Pillsbury biscuits with cinnamon and brown sugar or heating rich hot chocolate with real milk and dark chocolate shavings. I do try to avoid more than a glass or two of wine because alcohol is a depressant, and too much of it and I’ll start dwelling on people I’ve lost rather than remembering the happy times I had.

In addition to rereading favorite novels, there are a few nonfiction books that helped me over the years, particularly at the holidays. One is Anthony Robbins’ Awaken The Giant Within. I particularly recommend his chapter on the questions we ask ourselves. It’s a quick way to help yourself if you tend to get stuck mentally asking things like why something terrible happened to you or someone you love, or why your family is so difficult, or why you aren’t more successful (and I have at different times asked myself all those things, which is part of why I’m enjoying turning fifty). If you are grieving a loss or suffered another type of crises, whether recent or not, I found Living Through Personal Crisis and Coming Back: Rebuilding Lives After Crises and Loss, both by Ann Kaiser Sterns, very helpful. I don’t think the latter is in print anymore, but you can buy used copies on Amazon. And I often refer back to Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff, a book I avoided for many years because the title made me think it was about learning to be a slacker. To the contrary, it is about how to be relaxed and happy while still working hard and achieving goals—very valuable to me as for many years I bought into the idea that those two concepts simply could not coexist.

I hope some of the above thoughts are helpful if you’re struggling with the holidays this year or if the holidays are generally a challenging time for you. And to all my friends, readers, and colleagues, my best wishes for a safe and happy holiday season.

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Francis and Helen Lilly at their 50th Anniversary celebration.

The chaplain told me my mother had not made it. She had died at the scene. In the street, as I later learned. A passerby had run into St. Barbara’s church to fetch the pastor, and he’d given my mom what used to be known as last rites.

My father’s injuries required two emergency surgeries that week, one that very night, another two nights later, just before my mother’s wake. He awoke and partially recovered after both surgeries, but he died of his injuries six and a half weeks after that. I’m grateful I had the chance to talk and spend time with him after the crash, but still grieve not only my parent’s deaths but the pain, frustration, and loss my dad suffered as he struggled to recover.

The second stranger to phone me that week called on a weekday evening and left me the kindest message I’ve ever received. She said she was an advocate from an organization I’d never heard of, the Alliance Against Intoxicated Motorists, and she had gotten my information from the prosecutor’s office. I could hear the concern in her voice as she said how sorry she was to hear about my parents. She told me that she would be at the court date on Friday—the driver was in jail and had a hearing that day to see if bail would be set. If I could attend, she would meet me there. If not, she would call and tell me what had happened.

My brothers and I spent that week in my father’s hospital room, the operating room waiting areas, and the funeral home and church, so I did not attend court, though I talked with the prosecutor on the phone. The first time I attended a court hearing, Twyla from AAIM introduced herself and explained what was happening. I was grateful. Much of it I didn’t understand although I am an attorney. The benches for observers were far from the judge, so I couldn’t hear what the attorneys were saying, plus other lawyers drifted in and out, talking about their own matters. And our case never seemed to be called at the time we’d been told to be at court. (I learned later this is because many criminal defense lawyers drive between courtrooms all over the Chicago area, so they can’t always appear at the precise time set. In addition, those defendants who are in prison are brought in by bus as a group for their court hearings, so when their cases are heard depends upon when they arrive at the courthouse.)

Twyla sat with me each time, talking with me if I wanted to talk, offering silent comfort if I did not. Her support helped me handle my grief and anger, as well as the stress of seeing the driver whose reckless actions caused so much harm. He’d had two DUIs before the night he ran into my parents, and he’d been so intoxicated he’d claimed to not even know he’d hit anyone. After each court hearing, Twyla took me to a nearby coffeehouse. The case continued for nearly a year, and she and I watched the trees and plants near the river behind the coffeehouse change with each season. Her steadfast warmth, encouragement, and good humor helped me pull myself together after each hearing so I could return to my office and work.

Because Twyla’s help meant so much to me, eventually I joined AAIM and now serve as its Vice President. I learned about the many other services AAIM provides, including assisting victims where possible with one-time expenses such as bus passes to visit a loved one in the hospital, emergency rent assistance where the household’s breadwinner was killed or is so devastated by grief she or he is unable to work, and, sadly, gravestones. AAIM also works hard at educating people about the dangers of DUI and preventing deaths and injuries. On and off for years I’ve spoken on AAIM panels to first-time DUI offenders in the hope that telling my story will make enough impact that they never risk drinking and driving again.

In that awful time after the crash, I felt I’d never have a normal life again and that nothing could ease the loss and pain. And it’s true, nothing could bring my parents back. But that first voicemail from Twyla is, for me, the essence of what AAIM is all about. In a dark time, a stranger’s kind voice on the telephone kept me moving forward, believing in people, and looking for the good in this world. For that, I will be forever grateful to AAIM.

This month, AAIM is celebrating its 25th annual event to raise funds for victims on the evening of Saturday, October 24, 2015. If you’d like to attend, to buy raffle tickets, or to donate to support AAIM, call 847-240-0027 ext. 12, or visit AAIM’s website.

Lisa M. Lilly is the author of the occult thrillers The Awakening and The Unbelievers, Books 1 and 2 in the Awakening series. A short film of the title story of her collection The Tower Formerly Known as Sears and Two Other Tales of Urban Horror was recently produced under the title Willis Tower. If you’d like to be notified of new releases and read reviews of M.O.S.T. (Mystery, Occult, Suspense, Thriller) books and movies, click here to join her email list and receive free a short horror story, Ninevah, published exclusively to M.O.S.T. subscribers.
                                           

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