It's that time of year again. Yea...that time of year. It came a little faster than it usually does, it seems. Halloween is over, Thanksgiving is has long since passed, and Christmas is now only days away. Will this year be different than the last ones? Will I find the Christmas magic I feel like I've been missing? Hmm, did I ever really have it? These days, more often than not, I feel I have experienced only two holiday seasons. While I have physically lived through far more than that, emotionally, there have been only two: The ones before and the ones after Isabella's death. Those two seasons are, in themselves, so very different.
Looking back, I know what my focus USED to be on. I remember being a child, and even into my early adulthood where all I REALLY cared about were the material things in this world. What would I get? What did I want? What would make me the happiest? Once I was an adult, and after I had had Jason, my focus shifted. I was still focused on the material things, but was now no longer interested in them for myself. What did he want? What would make him love me more? How would I manage to pay for all of it? Eventually the other boys came along, which really just intensified those feelings that I was already having. After all, that made that many more people I had to be materialistic for! I always finished the holiday thinking something was missing, thinking I had done something wrong. I could never truly figure out what that something was, and by the time I did, the holiday season was over, and we were moving on. Whatever it was that was missing would have to wait until next year...at least.
In 2011, just after that aforementioned holiday season, Bella died. My world, which had been chugging along at a solid, steady pace, stopped dead in it's tracks. Everything that used to be important to me no longer was, and things that used to seem so crucial were now so trivial. How could those things have been such a big deal? Oiy. To say my heart was broken was an understatement. There truly is no appropriate term for the loss I felt, for the hole that was inside of me. I never thought for a minute that I could heal this broken heart...that i would recover from this pain. I fell into a pit of deep despair, of darkness, and destruction. I knew eventually I would have to come out of it, and when I did, I'd be reborn.
That first set of holidays was easily the most difficult. That feeling when everything is still numb, and you're still trying to come to terms with the reality of what is. The pain that was her death was seeping in slowly though, no matter how hard i tried to fight it. Before I could blink it was Halloween, and the horror of what I had lost was ready with a snow shovel to plow me in the face. We went to the pumpkin patch, as we do every year, and i bought a pumpkin for her anyway, though she wouldn't get to carve it. It was a tiny one, but it was hers. Thanksgiving came with Christmas on its tail, bringing an empty space where her high chair should have been, presents for my baby who would never be, and silence where once I had laughed. I was sure it could not get any worse, but life always surprises, doesn't it? Then as the decorations went up, reality hit hard and was more than I felt I could bear. I began wallowing in everything she'd never get to do, everything we'd never get to do with her. Those feelings have a way of sneaking up on you, and owning you, ya know? I would never get to pick out the perfect christmas dress for her to wear. I would never see her toddle down the hallway towards a Christmas tree overflowing with Christmas presents. I'd never see her grin at Christmas lights, or laugh as she chased a ball around the hallway. I'd never buy little girl presents especially for my one and only princess. I'd never hear her laugh, or say Merry Christmas, or see Santa for the first time. Never. And I'd NEVER, EVER enjoy the holidays again without her....or maybe even life...never.
The next year, I focused on just doing enough to get through, just enough to say we participated in Christmas for Jason and Logan, but my heart was never really in it...i just didn't feel like being in the Christmas spirit. I hung Bella's stocking right beside the rest of ours, illuminated her special candle to include her in our celebrations, and smiled cheerfully at everyone who offered us their joy filled "Merry Christmas!" And as I spread my Christmas cheer and goodwill toward men, working my humble job, bringing a Merry Christmas to the residents at our facility and making them feel at home, I had only one thought in my mind. It became my mantra: “If I can just make it through December, I will be okay.” I was no longer focused on the material side of the season as I had been in my younger years. In fact, I was no longer focused on the season at all. I wanted it over.
And so, here I am, on what will be my third Christmas without her. My third season of joy, my third year of fa-la-la-ing, my third year of Bella's physical absence. Reading this, you probably think you know where this is headed. You think I'm going to tell you that this year is going to be just like the rest of them.You imagine I'm gonna tell you that it never gets better, that there is no such thing as healing, and that as grieving parents, we will always be bitter and angry. You might think I'm going to tell you that we have a right to be, especially at a time when most families are celebrating a time of giving and we are remembering what has been taken away. If you're thinking those things, you'd be wrong. It took me a long time to get to this point, but here it is. Hold on tight.
Not long ago, I looked deep into my soul, and I saw a light there. I went to church, and that light turned into a fire. I found something beautiful. I found faith. The next morning, I woke up and things looked a little different. Overnight, it seemed, my world had gone from a dull, dingy gray, to a beautiful rainbow. It was beautiful. Later that day, I heard someone in my home softly singing Christmas carols. How dare they!? What were they thinking?!? But . . . It was me. That evening, I made the decision to do crafts with the kids again! We'd do an advent calendar! A lesson of Baby Jesus, and the light that saved me. I bought Randall the Reindeer (Which is like Elf on the Shelf but less creepy!) Suddenly, it hit me. No matter how guilty I feel in acknowledging it, I have to tell you, I am looking forward to Christmas. I'm looking forward to celebrating, and Santa! Oh . . . my . . . GOD. How can this be? Why is this happening?
After much thought over the situation though, I think I know why. I think I spent the holidays of the past looking through a lens that only focused on black and white, on the physical, on that which can be seen and physically felt. The lavishly wrapped gifts, excessive food, amount of money spent, and glittering (sometimes gaudy) lights on the tree. The next two were spent looking through a lens that was distorted and scarred by grief. I focused on what was missing rather than on what was still here. I think I wanted it that way. Now though, I think I've learned to do something mroe than just deal with the memories, I've learned to enjoy them. Although they can at times be bittersweet, I'm dealing with the fact that feeling emotion is really no different than feeling passion about something. It's lighting a fire in my soul. She's a beautiful memory, and painful one. I have to remember her, miss her, celebrate her, and do that all at the same time. This year, as the cards fill the mailbox, and packages find our doors, as Christmas Carols take over the radio, and Santa is close to making his debut, I will choose a different lens, a lens that captures that which we cannot see or physically touch. A lens that goes beyond.
Of course, not everything will change. I will still hang Bella’s stocking beside ours, do my best to help those in need, light candles in her memory, and all of the other things that have made the last two years bearable. But this year, I hope to do these things with joy rather than with bitterness and sorrow. This year, I want to grasp the hand of a friend in church, kiss the cheek of my sweet son on his first christmas, and hold my boys close while they drift off to sleep, to a place where only children can dream. I want to watch Santa hold my wiggly, silly toddlers in his lap. I want to sing “O Holy Night” on Christmas Eve to a congregation full of people I trust when I haven't truly felt a song in my heart in years. I want to feel the Christmas that we cannot see.
This year, I want to remember the person I really am, the one I used to be. I want to enjoy the months ahead of me. Not because I need to or because someone else says it’s time to move on or that I'm obsessing—but because—well, because I can. This year, I want to find the magic I feel I've always been missing out on....and I want to do it before it's too late.
