Sunday, December 2, 2007

Decorations

This post was almost written at 3:00 am, since that was when I got up today. Instead, I waited until now, when I am feeling a little less overwhelmed and bit more awake.

Behind me is a fragrant candle which I lit on Thanksgiving weekend to symbolize Jae Lynn's presence with our family all through the holidays. It will burn continually until New Years day, where then, I will pack it up and store it away until next year.

Directly in front of me is a program from today's memorial service hosted by the funeral home which served us after daddy's death 3 months ago. My friends at this funeral home honored and remembered all who had been lost this past year. A thoughtful gesture.

To my left is a closet filled with gifts already purchased for under our Christmas tree. To my right is the place where our tree will stand.

Our tree used to be decorated with our hodge-podge of home-made ornaments, and our walls were covered with the girls annual "Dear Santa" lists. Each of the three girls had their own little nativity scene to place wherever they chose. Almost every single thing in our decoration box had been kept for a reason and had some sort of sentimental value. Last week, I climbed into the attic and stared at that huge decoration box, now covered with three years worth of dust.
Will I open it this year?
Friends have offered to do it with me, but I think that when I enter into that box, it will need to be done in solitude.

I used to hate it when I overheard someone say "I wish Christmas would be over!" I never told them so, but I often considered those people just grouchy negative bah-hum-bug-er's. I could not comprehend how such a wonderful joy filled season could be dreaded.
Me.
The one who considered herself so "caring and understanding and empathetic".

Grief is the hardest work I have ever done. It never ends. Time does indeed provide blessed healing of my wounded heart, but the scab gets raked off every hour during the holiday season.
Even when I sleep. Or don't sleep.

At this afternoon's memorial service that I just mentioned, I was surrounded by a hundred or so of fellow mourners. There are others out there who feel like me. Thousands probably. Now I can relate when I hear the phrase, "I just wish it was over!".

I have a great deal of blessings and joy in my life.
I honestly am, I think, a very positive individual. It may not be obvious by these thoughts, but it is true.
However,...I don't think I will get into the box this year.

1 comment:

CandaceK said...

Dusty Emails

Debbie Snyder Poling was my dear, dear friend in Tennessee who died from ovarian cancer nearly five years ago. Before Debbie died, when she felt strong enough to sit upright, she would forward me joke after joke and warm-fuzzy after warm-fuzzy. I didn't tell it to her face, but in my heart I called her the "Queen of Email Forwards." I usually don't give forwards a second glance, and during the time Debbie was sending them to me right and left, I just couldn't keep up with all the email, so I simply saved opening them for another time.

Then she died.

Then I couldn't open them. It was too painful. So I waited. I waited, I waited. Finally I had waited so long--nearly three and a half to four years--that when I went back to find them, they were gone. I have no idea what Aristotle.net did with them. I simply don't have them.

I wish I could open them tonight. I wish I had opened them then...and printed out the ones she especially liked, prinited out the ones that were touchy-feely about friendship never ending and stuff like that.... Instead my dusty emails just vanished.

It's OK. I have my memories and some pictures. But it would have been good to have some of her last expressions of love and friendship...even if they were forwards.

Hold on to your box tightly, even if you don't open it up this year.
Kay