Heartbreaking Holidays After Losing A Child: 'It Doesn't Get Better'

For families who have lost a child, Christmas carols and holiday cheer can be cruel reminders of all that's lost and the aching grief that lives on forever.

Three East End families opened their hearts to share their thoughts and feelings on what it's like to get through the holidays without a child who has died— how they carry on when faced with unimaginable pain and the empty chair that no parent should ever have to bear.

Joseph Marino

Joseph Marino was only 15 years old in 2009 when he was hit by a drunk driver in Hampton Bays while on his bicycle; he died from his injuries.

And for his anguished mother Dorothy, the pain and all-encompassing grief is as real and palpable as it was on the darkest night of her life.

The holidays, she said, are irrevocably altered.

"The holidays used to be all about spending time with family and friends. Traditions. We just aren't a whole family anymore," she said. "So that was the most difficult part. Then there was not wanting to be with other family members or friends' families. A piece of ours was missing and it was too painful to watch others enjoy themselves. It was just easier, for me at least, to just bow out of invitations to parties and friends houses. The first Christmas without Joe, I told the other boys to go spend time with their friends because I wasn't in any shape to even attempt being cheerful. The holidays are a very painful time now. There will always be one less gift to wrap, one less helping hand with the tree or decorations, and worst of all . . . the empty seat at the dinner table."

Some traditions, she said, are just too painful, without him.

"Each year there was a special ornament bought for each of my boys. And every year these were placed on the tree. They are packed away now."

Every Christmas Eve, Marino said, her family attended midnight mass. "After that we came home and each of the kids opened one gift. That gift was a new pair of pajamas that they were to wear to bed that night — that way I would always know there weren't wearing something raggedy for the videotaping of them opening their gifts in the morning." She laughed. "Then we would read 'Twas the night before Christmas' before going to bed. As the kids got older we would pass the book around so everyone could read. None of this is done anymore."

Today, new traditions have evolved, she said.

"There are stockings hung above the fireplace with each of our names on them. I have put Joe's away because it was just too painful to put it up and not put anything in it. So instead I have things that people have made and given to us with his name on them and place them, along with an angel, on the base of the fireplace."

Her son, Marino said, adored the holiday season.

"Joe loved Christmas. He loved helping me decorate — and he helped the neighbors, too. Whether it was the tree, around the house or outside. We had a 9' tree that he got such a kick out being able to reach the top of when I couldn't. I will never forget that last Christmas together. It was a pre-lit tree and we had such a hard time finding that one bulb that had broken and taken out a whole section of lights. But he stuck it out with me until we found it and the tree was completely lit. And when it was all done, he got to put the star on top. That has also since been put away."

For other parents who have lost their child, Marino shares her own experience.

"Grieving is a very personal thing. No two people grieve the same way. And the grief after the death of your child never goes away. It has been seven years for me and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of Joe, talk to him, pray for him or cry — and sometimes it's all of the above."

She added: "The best thing you can do for a grieving parent is be patient. Tell them things such as, 'I know you are in pain but if there is anything I can do for you, I'm here.' Give them a hug. Things you don't want to say: 'He's in a better place. All things happen for a reason. You're not over that yet?' Or, my personal favorite: 'I know how you feel, when my mother, grandmother, friend — or anyone else other than their child— died.' Do not tell a grieving parent you know how they feel. Because unless they had a child die, or be killed, they have absolutely no clue how we feel."

The bottom line, Marino said, is an aching deep within: "We are in pain. Even when you see us smiling or laughing we are in pain. Because there will forever be a piece of our hearts MIA."

Marino's hope is that others talk about her son. "Please talk about our child if you knew them. Happy memories are best shared. You will not be reminding us that our child died. We know that. We will never forget that. What you are doing is reminding us that our child lived."

The Marinos, in the years since losing Joe, have stayed home, then begun visiting their other son Anthony in New Orleans. Now, they have commenced a new tradition, going into New York City overnight, visiting St. Patrick's Cathedral and seeing a show.

"St. Patrick's Cathedral has very special meaning to us. We donated Joe's organs through the New York Organ Donor network. We were invited by the organ donor network to St. Patrick's Cathedral for a special mass for those that died and those that got the opportunity to live, or see," she said.

There is a site on their neighbor's property, with a cross, that's decorated for Joe. "Going to the site, and decorating it, are actually easier then going to the cemetery."

But there is no solace to be found.

"There will never be peace for me as long as Joe is gone and I am still here," Marino said. "My peace will come when we are together again."

If she could speak to Joe, Marino said she'd say to her beloved boy what she says, every day of her life: "I love you. I miss you."

To other parents, who are living their first holiday without their child, Marino said, "The first holiday season is hard. There's still pain and regret and guilt, guilt about enjoying anything without our child. And I'm sorry to say this but chances are, it won't be the worst. Because, for me at least, you're still in shock. The second was actually worse then the first for me. Now it was real. Joe wasn't coming back."

Marino said grieving families should do what they can handle. "If you don't want to 'celebrate', at all, then don't."

Support for all is critical, she said.

"Things will change. But it is a process. It is a process that we will be dealing with for the rest of our lives, unfortunately. But change will come. And it will come when your mind and body are ready to handle the new normal, for lack of a better phrase. Until then, embrace the memories. Hold on to them as tight as you can. Talk about your child and those memories often. Because as long as those memories exist, so does your child. They are the proof that your child lived, loved and was loved, even if only for a short a time. Don't give up. Give it time. Let things happen naturally. Try not to make plans. And if you do make plans, by all means, do not feel guilty if you need to cancel."

For the first time in seven years, Marino said she went out and bought new outside Christmas decorations this year. "I still can't bring myself to go crazy inside the house," she said. "But it's a start."

Cory Hubbard

Last weekend, the Westhampton Beach Presbyterian Church hosted a "Blue Christmas" service, for those that have lost a child or a loved one, "to honor and celebrate" the lives of those whose absence leaves a forever echo in hearts and holidays.

Ralph and Holly Hubbard of Westhampton Beach, whose son Cory died at 22 — the University of Maryland student lost his life after he was struck by a hit-and-run driver — attended the service and said sharing the experience with others who have walked the same path brings comfort.

"You have no idea, until it happens, unfortunately," Holly said.

Since losing Cory, the Hubbards have embraced new holiday traditions, such as a Worldwide Candle Lighting organized by Compassionate Friends, an organization to help those who have lost children. Candles are lit in honor of children who have died.

Candles are lit for grief, courage, memories, and love.

"You're crying, but you're also reflecting, on what a big part of our lives our children are, how much our children give us," Holly said.

It's not alway easy for people to know what to say to those who have lost a child, the Hubbards agreed.

"I feel like people are afraid to say Cory's name. They think it's going to upset us. But if we cry with them, that's the best compliment, that they care enough to say his name, talk about him, or tell a story. We love to hear stories about him."

Ralph agreed: "There's a great quote from Compassionate Friends: 'If you mention my child's name, I may cry, but if you don't mention his name, it will break my heart.'"

The months without Cory, a smiling, giving young man whose sense of adventure and joy for life left a deep imprint on countless hearts, have been long, his parents said.

"Trying to focus on their life, and not their death, takes a long time," Ralph said.

But losing Cory has brought the couple a whole new understanding of their Christian faith during the holiday season. "The holidays are supposed to be about what Christians believe, about the afterlife. This has made us refocus on what the holiday is supposed to be about, not commercial presents, but about life after death. It brings the 'holy' back to Christmas," Ralph said.

New traditions
The loss of their son has meant the end of traditions too difficult to bear.

Now, the Hubbards, along with their son Kyle, go to a relative's house. "The first year, we brought his stocking and we had people write a note to him and then we brought a candle and lit it," Holly said. Friends have begun to give them beautiful candles from trips, to light for Cory.

Going into the third year, the family will light a candle for Cory as part of the holiday celebration. "No one wants to forget him but you don't want to make it the focus of the holiday, either," she said.

Rather than focusing on how Cory died, his parents said a scholarship in his name is meant to focus on the "positive traits" he exhibited in life. "We want to reward a child who has those traits," they said.

It's the stories of Cory, of the kindness he showed friends, of the memories he made in his short time on earth, the signs they've received from him, that sustain.

"We know that Cory would not want us to be sad, he'd want us to try and find hope. I know he would," Holly said. "I know he's okay. We're the ones that miss him so tremendously."

Certain traditions, Holly said, were too painful to continue. "My tree has gone from a live tree to a skinny, Charlie Brown tree. We put it down in the basement with all the lights on it already."

At home with their son Kyle, they light the candles for Cory, as well. "We cry. That's our time to remember Cory."

Sharing their grief with other parents at Compassionate Friends has helped, his parents agreed. "You feel like you're a part of a whole, so many people who've lost children and who are all going through a lot of pain," he said. "You're not alone. And then the next person that comes along, you help and support them."

Holly agreed. While they may dread the meetings and feel reluctance about going, afterward, there is always a feeling of having taken away something positive, she said.

Christmas isn't the only rough time for grieving parents, Ralph said. "Every month has its challenges. You think the holidays are rough and then it's Valentine's Day and then St. Patrick's Day, and then their birthday and the anniversary of their death. All the things you do throughout the year have memories attached to them. It's not just the holidays, it's a year-round, a daily, challenge."

Both agreed moods can vacillate in a heartbeat, with a memory or a reminder of their boy, lost too soon.

"Some days are worse than others," Ralph said. "Some days, you're fine, then others, you get slammed. Or Holly will be upset, while I'm having a fine day, and they I say, 'Oh, man, we're having a Cory moment.'"

The Hubbards have turned their grief into a way to give back to others, with the Live Your Cor Foundation.

The foundation began with scholarships and has evolved into a mission of helping families in the community in need, they said.

Cory's friends created "Live Your Cor" stickers and sweatshirts; those stickers are now shown on social media in destinations across the world, as Cory's wide circle of loving friends keeps his memory alive wherever they go; he is the wind beneath their proverbial wings, the heartbeat of their wanderlust.

Remembering their son, the Hubbards remember how, when in New Zealand, he befriended a less popular young man and stayed by his side, so he wouldn't be alone.

"He was a unifier," they said. "He was one of the people that brought other people together. He wanted everyone to be included."

Ralph added that Cory was the captain of every sports team he joined. "He was the guy that made the new kid feel welcome. He wouldn't let anyone be an outcast."

For parents facing their first holiday season without their child, a different locale or a ski vacation might help assuage painful memories, Ralph said.

Holly gave words of wisdom: "It's never going to be the same, but try to establish different rituals and routines. Don't feel you have to do anything. Don't feel pressure to put up the tree. Do what works for you. Whatever works, whatever gives you a little bit of comfort and peace. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's movies in bed. What might work for you might not work for someone else."

Kaitlyn Doorhy

Kaitlyn Doorhy of Mattituck died when she was just 20 years old, struck by a car while away at college.

For her parents, Darla and Joe, and her sister Carly, the holidays have lost their magic.

"To be honest, it's just another day of the week for us now," Darla Doorhy said. "I wouldn't even put up a Christmas tree, if I didn't have Carly."

Kaitlyn, her mom said, loved Christmas, her birthday, Valentine's Day. Without her, those days are hollow shells of days gone by. "I keep busy and go through the motions," she said.

The family pours their love for Kaitlyn into giving back, working with the Mattituck Lions Club during the holiday season, helping to feed 40 families at the American Legion Hall, wrapping baskets of food and holiday blessings for those less fortunate. They adopt families in need and also, are involved with the Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church.

In addition, an organization created after Kait's death, Kait's Angels, celebrates her legacy with acts of kindness in the community.

"That's how I keep Kaitlyn's memory alive," Doorhy said. "Joe and I taught both our kids to always give back to others who don't have as much."

Still, she said, the holidays echo with loss. They both keep busy rather than dwell on the space in their hearts filled by their firstborn daughter.

New traditions have been adopted, Darla said.

"We go to the cemetery now. I light a candle for her at the church, and I have a mass said in her name. We go to her grave and say a prayer before we begin the festivities."

Ornaments have been designed with hearts, and Kaitlyn's name, Doorhy said.

And friends have kept the love for their beloved angel alive.

The Doorhy tree this year is bedecked in pink lights, Kait's favorite color, and angel wings.

"Over the past two years, so many people have given us angel wings," Darla said, handmade ornaments from around the world, sparkling ornaments that glitter in memory of the former Mattituck Strawberry Queen with the bright smile and warm heart.

Kaitlyn, she said, "loved everything about the holiday, from start to finish. She was very creative, always made something, a card, a banner, a gingerbread house."

Now, on Christmas Eve, Kaitlyn's family opens a bottle of her favorite champagne and toasts the memory of a young woman who had everything before her. "It wasn't like an 85-year-old person, passing away, who'd lived her life," Doorhy said.

In her daughter's memory, Kait's Angels has helped to install Buddy Benches in local schools, places where kids who are being bullied or who are lonely can go, to find a friend — find the warmth and caring that Kaitlyn shared with others every day of her young life.

"My life's goal is to keep my family strong and to keep Kaitlyn's memory alive," Doorhy said. "For parents who have lost a child, it doesn't get better. Everyone says it does, but it doesn't."