19 Dec Christmas with My Mother

After the loss of someone we cherish, days can be hard. They can be difficult. And holidays tend to be some of the hardest days in the very beginning of the journey through our grief. But the truth is that over time, we begin to heal. We begin to feel again. The sun has been shining all along, but suddenly, we’re able to see it for the first time in a long time.

Throughout the grief journey (for it is a journey, not a destination), days go from being hard to being manageable, from being manageable to being ok, and then from being ok to being good again. The emotions and feelings we have during the holidays after the loss of a loved one, however, seem to have a staying power to them. For some people, holidays after the loss of a loved one can take a little longer to become manageable, livable and good again.

And that’s ok. That’s normal.

The good news is that as we walk along our journey through grief, healing comes to us in tiny doses, until one day we realize that we’ve had a therapeutic dose of that healing. That healing never fully takes away the ache in our hearts or the longing we have for our loved ones. We will always feel, always remember, always reminisce, always look back, when it comes to the holidays, especially if the holidays played an important role in our families and in the relationships we had with those we’ve lost.

Upon reflecting on the first few holiday seasons after the loss of her mother, one young woman wrote that “the days got easier, one by one–not all at one time–but slowly, surely, they got better as I walked my new journey without her. The first year: how would I make it through Christmas. How could I enjoy the holidays without her? And even if I could, what kind of a daughter would I be if I were able to feel joy again after losing her. I knew for sure that the happiness, the joy, the ‘Christmas spirit’ we all feel during this season would never be mine again. And it’s true; they were harder to find, but they returned. They weren’t gone for good. I grew to be excited over Christmas again, to laugh again, to feel that excitement over the decorations, the gift-giving, the time with family members and the true meaning of the season. And, ultimately, I was once again able to look back on Christmases with [my mother] and smile, knowing those memories would always be mine.”

The young woman wrote a piece about Christmas with her mother, saying it was her hope that the piece would help others who were mourning to know that they would one day look upon the holidays with joy again–just like she was able to do–after the loss of a loved one. She said she hoped the piece would help others to talk about or write about their Christmas memories with their loved ones as well. “The memory of our celebrations with our loved ones,” she shared, “will ever be ours. Though the ones we’ve lost are gone from us now, the memories we were mindful to build when they were with us will always be ours to dream upon, recall, reminisce over and share with others. Thank goodness we don’t have to experience the loss of those precious memories as well.”

Christmas with My Mother

Only the colors of green, red and white,
Snow-laden garland with twinkling lights;
A tree for the great room and one for the kitchen–
They sparkled so brightly, I remember she’d mention
Peanut butter balls that wore milk chocolate coating,
A sweet-scented house that was surely worth noting.

Presents wrapped brightly with gift tags and bows,
Where she hid them all season, still nobody knows!
Humbling sentiments; everything had meaning,
Big hugs on cold nights and sweet season’s greetings,
A plethora of food made kindly with love,
Her service a reflection of our Father above.
Unwavering belief that Santa was real,
If we’d just take the time to let our hearts feel.
Inexplicable peace; a sincere sense of joy,
Reaching out to those hurting with little girls and little boys.
Tiptoeing lightly so no one would know
She was up to great sweetness so God’s love could be shown;
A deepening faith, the mystery of the manger,
A home full of love, free from sadness and anger,
Every single hall decked and every branch trimmed,
(I think “Silent Night” was her favorite hymn),
Our hearts on our Savior and Bethlehem’s blessing,
A confident faith that won’t leave us guessing,
Carols in moonlight and songs from the choir,
A stocking-filled mantle and big, roaring fire.
A spirit that warmed us and welcomed us in. . .

. . . I’m remembering Christmas with Mother again.

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