My younger son is ten years old. Ten is a liminal age, the beginning of the tween years. Being a tween is hard because their whole “thing” is that they are straddling a line between here and there, and not being anywhere. It is confusing, sometimes lonely, and often scary.
This year has been particularly hard for Jai because, not only is he entering his tweens, but he is also mourning the loss of his grandmother. Jai was very close with his grandma. They were kindred spirits; sweet, loving, carefree artists. Losing her was like losing a piece of himself.
Jai has also decided this year that he no longer believes in Santa Claus. For weeks he has been hounding me with forlorn questions like, “Santa’s not real right? I know he’s not real.”
I didn’t really know how to respond. Conventional wisdom says we parents are supposed to take our cue from our kiddo. When the child is ready to move on, they ask. When they ask, we are supposed to give them the “Santa is within” speech. That speech is supposed to help them transition from “gift-getter” to “gift-giver” with grace. It is supposed to make them excited about their new role in the whole Christmas Experience universe.
It is nice and neat, and, when it works, it is a parenting win. I gave the speech to my older son and it worked. He was excited to be in on the secret and embraced Phase II of Christmas Magic with enthusiasm and pride. But with Jai, there was no joy in the big reveal. He was sad and heartbroken. His chin dropped to his chest and he choked back tears. He struggled to articulate why he was taking it so hard, but eventually said, “It was just nice you know? The idea that someone out there was looking out for me.”
Of course, this wasn’t about Santa. It was about his grandma. If Santa was real, then maybe his grandma might not be gone either. Maybe she was out there somewhere, looking out for him. Or, if grandma was gone, it was tolerable because Santa, an old, magical being, was still out there, checking on him. Santa understood his inner most heart. Santa understood what he liked. Santa would reassure him that he was seen, that he was loved.
But now, that fantasy was shattered. Santa wasn’t real and his grandma was gone. And, no matter how heartbreaking it was, no matter how badly Jai wanted to believe in Santa, he didn’t. His maturing sense of self demanded he accept it. Despite the pain, he had to accept a new reality.
This is one of the hardest parts of being a parent. I want to shield my children from every heartache. But, of course I can’t. I can’t mourn for Jai. The best I can do is offer support. I can sit with him, hold him, let him cry. I can help him find words and hold space for him, but I cannot do the emotional work for him. That burden is his. And sadly, the emotional labor is his as well.
Sutra 2.1 of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, states that we must “accept pain as purification.” We must accept that the work will be difficult and uncomfortable. In taking on the practice, I understand that it will not be easy, and it will be painful, but I do it anyway.
Basically; I choose to grow up.
What a miracle choosing to grow up is! As his parent, I would have happily let Jai spend another year in “Santa Fantasy,” - hell, I would have shielded him forever! - but he forced my hand. I think he needed a new narrative for loss, a way to mourn the loss of two beloved friends. We sat together for a while, discussing how “Santa Magic” still exists, but just in a different way, and then Jai said, “I know you have Santa Magic in you mom… I think I do too.”
We often glorify youth and say things like, “I believe!” as a testament to our blissful ignorance, but I think we should celebrate our successful maturation too. Yes, growing up comes with uncomfortable, hard moments - that is the “emotional burden” of being alive. We don’t get out of bearing that burden by running away from it. When we choose to do our own emotional labor, it moves us from the child-like “gift getter” to the adult “gift giver” – it makes us more empathic, compassionate and loving.
And those are wonderful gifts to give and receive.
May you love and be loved,
give and receive support,
and care and be care for.
Empower | Educate | Encourage