Nea Fane – Un Biet Român Pripășit în America / A Hapless Romanian Stuck in The US

… and other considerations

What’s a Grieving Parent to Do During the Holidays?

With the holidays closing in, I pulled out my old Christmas uniform, a plaid Henley and a Santa hat. Remarkably, they still fit, though my spirit felt two sizes too small. Dressed for the occasion, I made my daily trip to visit Cosmin’s resting place.

My mood? Rock bottom. Christmas hadn’t even started, but I was already counting the days to January. Standing there, I did what I always do: I talked to him. I asked, “How am I supposed to survive this ‘Jolly Season’ mentally intact?”

Cosmin, in his unique sarcastic way, would’ve had a field day with my existential holiday crisis. “Take a selfie and post it,” I could almost hear him say, his voice dripping with mischief. “Facebook was invented for guys like you.” He used to say that a lot, though I never did ask him what he meant. His other advice? A cheeky reminder that alcohol might help, just don’t overdo it.

So I did it. I took the selfie, Santa hat and all, my expression somewhere between “whatever” and “over it.” Then I posted it on Facebook, thinking the photo captured my mood perfectly.

The reactions came quickly: 45, to be exact. I counted them because, well, isn’t that what we do? Of those, 28 were Likes, 11 were Loves, and 6 felt like they might have actually understood my message. The 17 comments were a mix of “Merry Christmas!” (in two languages!) and generic well wishes.

That’s when it hit me: nobody really understood. And this is a very good thing, because to understand what I am going through, you have to have endured the same sort of loss.

Feeling misunderstood, I retreated to my fortress of solitude, also known as my office-slash-cave, and concluded the “Jolly Season” was best faced with a glass in hand. Or two.

But even in my little bubble, I kept scrolling through social media, sending out half-hearted holiday wishes while searching for something real, something that resonated.

And then it finally dawned on me: social media may offer connection, but it’s rarely the kind of connection that fills the void grief leaves behind.

So, I’ll keep sharing my journey, not because I expect to be fully understood, but because every now and then, a deeper conversation might bridge the chasm between isolation and understanding.

And because in this journey I am not alone, I leave here some photos of my lady, in her very festive attire, making efforts to be jolly. The camera though, unforgiving, caught the sadness in her eyes. And yet, the juniors of her tribe, brought a smile to her face, a smile I hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Ironically, we ended up being the most festively dressed of all the relatives and friends. Irina had gone all out, putting real effort into her look. She was even pleasantly surprised to find that her Christmas uniform still fit, as if it had been waiting for just this occasion.

At the conclusion of my so-called Facebook experiment, I came to an eye-opening realization: the experiment was flawed from the start. I had assumed I was the center of the universe, expecting everyone to remember what I was going through, entirely disregarding the complexity of their own lives. But life doesn’t work that way. In the end, I was given a humbling lesson delivered gently through the good wishes of others.