Got the Blues…

Christmas 2007

One lingering effect from my husband’s death a little over two years ago, is the loss of my love of the Christmas holiday.

Don’t get me wrong, my appreciation for the Christ (Truth) wherever and whenever I find it has not diminished. But the celebration of the Winter Holidays — the traditions: carols, the greens,  the tree, the baking, special holiday movies (I haven’t watched them again yet), making gifts, the sheer delight and burgeoning excitement — all gone.

This year, I’ve felt tiny tickles of it. Like a delicate poke at my side, a whispered, “joy to the world — remember?” from deep inside. I did a little Christmas shopping yesterday, and felt mild pleasure at getting things for people. I feel, what, convalescent?

Perhaps that is all it is. Christmas was a special time for our relationship — as it is for so many, of course. I miss the old Dennis, who entered into it all with enthusiasm. I miss the partner-in-crime at spending too much on Josh. The anticipation of surprise. The shared moments of understanding, of heartbreaking delight. I just miss…

I also trust. Joy always returns, Love is everpresent. Happiness is a choice – or rather, a continuing selection of choices that move us into the shining stream of it. So I’m choosing. Today we’ll get a tree (just a small one to start). Drag out the lights and ornaments.  Ooh and aah over them, select the right one for each spot. Put on the holiday music in the background. Eat the first batch of cookies while we work. I’ll lean into the tingles of joy, the moments of delight. I’ll accept the pain and aching empty of missing. I’ll choose to celebrate, not to mourn. And it will get better and better and better.

Happy Holidays to you … may you have joy and peace in whatever ways you celebrate at this ending of the year

Namaste,

L

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6 thoughts on “Got the Blues…

  1. ***ssiigghh***
    I’ll be quiet with you, Laurie, and help you watch for that twinklewink from the old Dennis. Wait — what was that?

  2. Elegantly expressed. I never got to experience the Christmas joy with Dennis–he was already leaving us bit by bit when you and I became friends.

    I feel a bit deflated this Christmas. With the peace of not facing another health drama comes… quiet. Real quiet. Too much quiet. As I open the box of Christmas decorations I feel a catch in my throat. The last time I saw these, my father and brother were alive. Things are different now, forever. I grieve this Christmas, and take it slow and easy. Christmas, this year, like my family, is small. Our tree is tiny–lilliputian— maybe two feet tall. I chose it in honor of my mother who loved a “leetle tree.” But this “leetle tree” has roots, and it will go into the ground after it stands vigil over our small pile of gifts. There, it will grow,holding space for the memories of the ones we love who are no longer here. Perhaps next year, in among its tiny boughs of green, I will find Christmas joy hidden away, like a treasured ornament I thought I had lost. While I wait for the joy, I rest in the silent night.

    • Blesssings of the season to everyone who has so lovingly responded to my post. May those “treasured ornaments” of joy find us, take us unawares, and lift us higher.

      And so it is,
      L

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