Well the Christmas season is over. The holiday complete for another year. Year 2014 came roaring in with the whole household sick with the flu. As such, closing down Christmas this year brought us many weeks into the New Year. This was the first year we decorated the full house; the first year we bought a fresh tree again; the first year the old ornaments that we had hauled out each and every year before your death were again displayed. I had often wondered at what point would I do it again; at what time would Christmas come back into the house since you left us in 2009; at what point would I say it was okay; we can celebrate the holidays and look at your childhood ornaments again?
I looked at the pictures displayed by my Facebook friends. Their decorations with Santa Clause hats on pictures of their lost loved ones, with tinsel lying lovingly across memorabilia they hold dear in their hearts. I looked at the pictures of their beautiful trees with twinkling lights, and special ornaments, and I thought, can I do it this year? Can I be in that same place of celebration and joy? At no other year had this question occurred to me; I was not ready and I knew it; but this year… this year maybe I was.
A grieving mother once said…“her child did not die, so she could be a bitter person; but so she could be a better person.” Did I have the strength to be a better person, and finally put away the bitterness I have sucked on for the last 4-years? I wasn’t sure. When I would talk to daddy George about it, he would look at my face and look in my eyes, seeing the sadness glazing over them, and say “not this year, maybe not just yet.”
But more than all these emotions and thoughts, it was Daniel who made the decision for me. Not the grand-babies, although I wanted them to start seeing our house full of joyful spirit. But Daniel our son, your brother. Just as I knew we needed to rearrange the bedroom that you both shared for so many years, to accommodate his needs and help heal the pain he must have suffered each day and night, seeing your empty bed across from his; having your clothes still folded in the other half of the dresser you both shared; the closet still housing your shirts and jackets. Your trinkets, watches and chains still dangling on your half of the dresser top. That time, to close your memories out of your bedroom, came because we needed to think of his health, his life, his grief. Now it presented itself to me again.
Daniel is 19 now, he was 15 when you died; and soon he will be leaving home and moving on. What if my decision to decorate the house and celebrate this holiday again, occurred when he no longer lived in our home? What if he came back to visit and saw decorations up, that for years had laid packed away, and untouched? I couldn’t allow that to happen and I knew you would agree. He deserved a full celebration and he has deserved one for a while now. I knew in my heart what we should do and I planned that it would be done, yet I still delayed the steps needed to make it happen. But finally, one morning, a week before Christmas, I went into his room and saw a little Christmas figurine displayed on his desk, a Christmas stocking hanging from his dresser, and a Santa bag sitting near it. I needed no more time to think, and I told daddy George it was time to get a real tree; it was time to bring out the decorations; it was time to be better.
What a coincidence that evening, when Danny was picked up from school, he said to his dad …“can we just get a small tree this year?” The tree was already at the house, (daddy George didn’t tell him) and it was one of the most beautiful trees we have ever had! So funny because each year we would all go in search of the perfect tree. We would pull the tree out, that looked about the shape and size we wanted, and daddy George would shake it out and turn it around while we looked at it, deciding if this was the tree for us or not. Then I would hold it for daddy George to look at, twirling it this way and that before we would determine nah… not the best one and on to another. Sometimes we would have two trees displayed and circling at the same time. You would put your hands on your hips and look the trees over and always say they looked nice. Danny would just get impatient and say any of them was good enough. Finally one would be agreed upon and brought home to be trimmed and turned, making sure the better side was forward.
Well not this year, this year daddy George went by himself with instructions to just pick up a real tree, and this year it was the perfect tree! No trimming, no turning, each side was the best side. We decorated the tree with all the ornaments that had been packed away for 4 years. The handmade gold sprayed macaroni shells, the 5th year school picture glued to a paper tree, the angel with your name and date etched across its wing. We put up the decorations we bought the year we first married, the childhood ones your sister and brother had made, and the new ones we got for Cash and Landon (your nephews). The hardest to hold was your stocking with your name stitched across the fold.
We still decorated your tree, the one we bought the year you died. We decorated it with the new ornaments we had purchased for it. Ornaments without special meaning at the time, although now 4 years later they are valued by us as the ornaments we got the year our grief began and hold a special place for us…funny how that occurs whether you intend it or not. Your stocking was placed by the candle I light each day for you. I placed ornaments next to your urn. I made another special ornament, as I have done each year, filled with a personal message to you. (Someday I will read them, or not.) Lights were displayed inside and outside, the house looked really nice and had a really cozy homey feel to it. I felt you were with us this year, I felt surrounded by your presence. Maybe it was seeing your name on your stocking and ornaments; maybe it was reminisces about previous Christmas celebrations with you. When I would unwrap something to display, or hang, I would think back to the times you were with us, and your smile and the joy we shared.
The pain was not as great as closing your memories in your room, but it was a passage and a journey we needed to travel; and now that it is over I can reflect back and think about it, and all that it meant for me, and this grief journey I continue to travel.
We just took everything down last week; it took a few days to pack up and re-arrange the house back to pre-Christmas, and it is bittersweet. It was for a short time a moment back in time for us; and maybe that is the object of ornaments and Santa Clauses and candy dishes and Christmas towels and stockings. When we purchase them, or our children make them, or we receive them as gifts, they capture that time and space for us; and once a year by bringing them out and looking at them, and finding the best place on the tree, or counter or shelf to display them, when we string the lights and hang the wreaths, we remember past Christmas’s and all the memories and joys held in those past times; who was there; why we bought that item; who give us that gift and when we received it.
Just as your tree is now a memory of the year we lost you, and the sadness and heartache we had and still have, we cherish it and remember why we bought it and who it belongs to. Now this Christmas is over. We have packed everything back up with care and love, tenderly wrapping each item and placing them in their respective boxes. And when this New Year comes to an end, we will have the courage and strength to bring it all back out again, to open again our hearts and share the memories of our family and friends and share the memories of you in heaven, remembering and giving thanks that we have those memories to share.How blessed we are! God blessed us with 31 Christmas's with you; it is time to be better.
I looked at the pictures displayed by my Facebook friends. Their decorations with Santa Clause hats on pictures of their lost loved ones, with tinsel lying lovingly across memorabilia they hold dear in their hearts. I looked at the pictures of their beautiful trees with twinkling lights, and special ornaments, and I thought, can I do it this year? Can I be in that same place of celebration and joy? At no other year had this question occurred to me; I was not ready and I knew it; but this year… this year maybe I was.
A grieving mother once said…“her child did not die, so she could be a bitter person; but so she could be a better person.” Did I have the strength to be a better person, and finally put away the bitterness I have sucked on for the last 4-years? I wasn’t sure. When I would talk to daddy George about it, he would look at my face and look in my eyes, seeing the sadness glazing over them, and say “not this year, maybe not just yet.”
But more than all these emotions and thoughts, it was Daniel who made the decision for me. Not the grand-babies, although I wanted them to start seeing our house full of joyful spirit. But Daniel our son, your brother. Just as I knew we needed to rearrange the bedroom that you both shared for so many years, to accommodate his needs and help heal the pain he must have suffered each day and night, seeing your empty bed across from his; having your clothes still folded in the other half of the dresser you both shared; the closet still housing your shirts and jackets. Your trinkets, watches and chains still dangling on your half of the dresser top. That time, to close your memories out of your bedroom, came because we needed to think of his health, his life, his grief. Now it presented itself to me again.
Daniel is 19 now, he was 15 when you died; and soon he will be leaving home and moving on. What if my decision to decorate the house and celebrate this holiday again, occurred when he no longer lived in our home? What if he came back to visit and saw decorations up, that for years had laid packed away, and untouched? I couldn’t allow that to happen and I knew you would agree. He deserved a full celebration and he has deserved one for a while now. I knew in my heart what we should do and I planned that it would be done, yet I still delayed the steps needed to make it happen. But finally, one morning, a week before Christmas, I went into his room and saw a little Christmas figurine displayed on his desk, a Christmas stocking hanging from his dresser, and a Santa bag sitting near it. I needed no more time to think, and I told daddy George it was time to get a real tree; it was time to bring out the decorations; it was time to be better.
What a coincidence that evening, when Danny was picked up from school, he said to his dad …“can we just get a small tree this year?” The tree was already at the house, (daddy George didn’t tell him) and it was one of the most beautiful trees we have ever had! So funny because each year we would all go in search of the perfect tree. We would pull the tree out, that looked about the shape and size we wanted, and daddy George would shake it out and turn it around while we looked at it, deciding if this was the tree for us or not. Then I would hold it for daddy George to look at, twirling it this way and that before we would determine nah… not the best one and on to another. Sometimes we would have two trees displayed and circling at the same time. You would put your hands on your hips and look the trees over and always say they looked nice. Danny would just get impatient and say any of them was good enough. Finally one would be agreed upon and brought home to be trimmed and turned, making sure the better side was forward.
Well not this year, this year daddy George went by himself with instructions to just pick up a real tree, and this year it was the perfect tree! No trimming, no turning, each side was the best side. We decorated the tree with all the ornaments that had been packed away for 4 years. The handmade gold sprayed macaroni shells, the 5th year school picture glued to a paper tree, the angel with your name and date etched across its wing. We put up the decorations we bought the year we first married, the childhood ones your sister and brother had made, and the new ones we got for Cash and Landon (your nephews). The hardest to hold was your stocking with your name stitched across the fold.
We still decorated your tree, the one we bought the year you died. We decorated it with the new ornaments we had purchased for it. Ornaments without special meaning at the time, although now 4 years later they are valued by us as the ornaments we got the year our grief began and hold a special place for us…funny how that occurs whether you intend it or not. Your stocking was placed by the candle I light each day for you. I placed ornaments next to your urn. I made another special ornament, as I have done each year, filled with a personal message to you. (Someday I will read them, or not.) Lights were displayed inside and outside, the house looked really nice and had a really cozy homey feel to it. I felt you were with us this year, I felt surrounded by your presence. Maybe it was seeing your name on your stocking and ornaments; maybe it was reminisces about previous Christmas celebrations with you. When I would unwrap something to display, or hang, I would think back to the times you were with us, and your smile and the joy we shared.
The pain was not as great as closing your memories in your room, but it was a passage and a journey we needed to travel; and now that it is over I can reflect back and think about it, and all that it meant for me, and this grief journey I continue to travel.
We just took everything down last week; it took a few days to pack up and re-arrange the house back to pre-Christmas, and it is bittersweet. It was for a short time a moment back in time for us; and maybe that is the object of ornaments and Santa Clauses and candy dishes and Christmas towels and stockings. When we purchase them, or our children make them, or we receive them as gifts, they capture that time and space for us; and once a year by bringing them out and looking at them, and finding the best place on the tree, or counter or shelf to display them, when we string the lights and hang the wreaths, we remember past Christmas’s and all the memories and joys held in those past times; who was there; why we bought that item; who give us that gift and when we received it.
Just as your tree is now a memory of the year we lost you, and the sadness and heartache we had and still have, we cherish it and remember why we bought it and who it belongs to. Now this Christmas is over. We have packed everything back up with care and love, tenderly wrapping each item and placing them in their respective boxes. And when this New Year comes to an end, we will have the courage and strength to bring it all back out again, to open again our hearts and share the memories of our family and friends and share the memories of you in heaven, remembering and giving thanks that we have those memories to share.How blessed we are! God blessed us with 31 Christmas's with you; it is time to be better.
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