From the Desk of Intern Julia: I Didn’t Expect Halloween to Hit Me Like This

Approaching the holidays after the death by suicide of my cousin Zada, I knew they were going to be gut-wrenchingly hard. I was expecting to feel it on Thanksgiving Day, and especially on Christmas. But I was surprised when October rolled around and my grief felt like a tidal wave I was drowning under. 

Halloween was in full swing, and Halloween reminded me of my cousin. Zada loved Halloween. She loved dressing up in elaborate costumes, and she went all out for the Zombie Crawl in downtown Denver, a yearly Halloween event where people gather around in their best zombie costumes.  Even though she was approaching those years where teenagers are too cool to do things, she was never too cool for Halloween. (Also, my birthday is in October, so it was a double whammy of surprise grief when I realized I wouldn’t get a “happy birthday” text from her.) 

When you are moving through grief, sometimes you are just trying to make it from one moment to the next without being reminded of your new reality. Halloween felt like a constant reminder of Zada and her death. 

I remember walking through neighborhoods where there were plastic headstones and bloody hands reaching up from the lawn.  I went to a pumpkin patch where you could put your head through the hole for a picture of your face on a dug out grave that said “R.I.P” underneath. 

Still, I tried to brush it off and embrace the Halloween spirit by going to a haunted house. One room of the house was full of coffins of all shapes and sizes, with a person in elaborate makeup asking each of us “which one would you like?” in a creepy voice. My stomach dropped, and tears filled my eyes as I tried to fight the grief away. 

“When did Halloween get so morbid?” I thought to myself. But it wasn’t that Halloween had changed– my grief had changed Halloween for me. This  year, graveyards and coffins were more than just Halloween decorations to me. They were a representation of the worst time of my life and my new reality. They now represented Zada. Now she had become her favorite holiday in the worst way. 

I even saw costumes that featured “self harm” kits, or even fake nooses. “Who could let suicide become a costume?” I was angry. I was living a reality where it was not a costume, but rather something that took someone I loved away. 

Halloween decorations and costumes felt as if they were intentionally mocking my pain. Was I being “overly sensitive”? It felt like no matter where I went, I could not avoid my grief. 

I wondered why I couldn't love this Halloween like I have every year before. The reality is that no year will ever be the same after losing someone I loved. The Julia who loved Halloween in years past was not the same Julia celebrating that year. 

When we experience major loss, our worlds flip upside down and our reality is vastly different than the year or months before. Aspects of our personalities can change, and we have to learn what this new version of ourselves is like. 

During that first Halloween season, I was celebrating as a new version of myself. In retrospect, I know that it was okay that some things bothered me in ways they didn’t before. I wasn’t overreacting or being too sensitive by being disturbed by Halloween decorations. I was just seeing the world differently. 

Grief is going to demand to be felt whenever it wants, and instead of fighting it and trying to mold into an old version of me, I had to learn to grow around it. I found new aspects of Halloween that I grew to love, like  family friendly pumpkin patches, and black cats that reminded me of my own. I prioritized the cozy aspects of fall with cute ghost lights, my favorite tea, and a romcom. I reconnected with old scary movies I loved as a kid. Instead of subjecting myself to things I knew that would bring up unpleasant memories, I gave myself comfort and grace. 

It’s okay if your Halloween looks different this year. It’s okay if things that once were spooky and joyful now bring up sadness. It’s not silly or dramatic. You’re not alone. We’ll get through this Halloween together.