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| I'm pretty sure I owned this sweater in the '80's! |
I won’t lie. These “first” holidays are tough. Family and friends are doing what they can to help soften the heartache, and I sincerely appreciate their kindness - and their invitations to join them for a bit of holiday fun. If only I could flip a switch and turn off the grief. I feel terribly guilty when I don’t accept an offer…
Last night I made it halfway to a long planned event, then pulled into a parking lot and sat with my aloneness, before turning around and heading back home. I knew I wasn’t really going to be alone - several of my “villagers” were awaiting my arrival - but I just couldn’t do it. In that moment I missed George too much - a Friday “date night” kind of occasion. Without my Kahuna in the driver’s seat, telling me I looked beautiful. Dancing to the slow songs, my head nestled in his chest, and swinging to our trademark moves when the music was right. I couldn’t face it – alone. I drove home, sent an apologetic text, and took off my party clothes in favor of pj’s and some hot tea. Charlie stayed close by, as he does when I’m “mopey”, and I imagined Friday nights of my past life. Oh what a difference.
One invitation I didn’t turn down was the delightful Christmas program of my firstborn Grand. Now a seasoned actor at 4 and a half (he was a donkey last year) Master M had a lead role as Joseph in this year’s Christmas performance along with the other 3-4 year old wiggly, giggly tots.
He had been practicing loudly recently, and nothing was better than his mash-up of song lyrics - "We wish you were merry, Christmas" - (and a perfect tile for this blog!); and "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle on the way." In my lap sat my youngest grand - Sweet Baby K, a vision in her Christmas plaid party dress and black patent Mary Janes.
But even that event tugged at my broken heartstrings...
Driving, alone, to the church brought back memories of last year’s program. It was my first public, solo appearance, and I recalled the sudden outflow of tears as I walked in to see our then 3 year old grandson perform his first Christmas carols. George was in the hospital last year, on dialysis, awaiting results of the multitude of tests that would eventually reveal the deadly truth. Being at the church without “Grandpa” last year was a gut-punch - and the foreshadowing of what would soon become my new, unwelcome reality.
Let me assure you that I do allow happiness and joyful moments to take center stage now and then. I get out of bed every day, find distractions to keep me busy, and play Christmas music loudly. I’m looking forward to Christmas Eve with the family, and Christmas morning with the Grands, eagerly opening Santa’s bounty. I talk to George regularly, and know how much he hates seeing me suffer through this Blue Christmas without him. So I push through the sadness as best I can. Memories of fifty Christmases past remind me how fortunate I was to be given the gift of friendship and love with my Kahuna.
In a few days I will mark the eighth month since That Day, when I kissed my Kahuna goodbye - four months after his oncologist told us, “George, it’s not good news.” George’s first words to me after The News? “Honey, I’m sorry.” He knew he was giving me the ugly Christmas sweater I didn’t want to accept. He hated it too, and vowed to let me return it - by fighting for his life. While the outcome was not what we were prepared for, I will always love him for the gifts he gave us all. Acceptance. Kindness. Generosity. Compassion. Dogged determination. And most of all, unconditional love.
Merry Christmas, Darling. I miss you, and at the same time I “see” you. In every ornament on “our” Christmas tree. In the twinkling lights that adorn the home in which we celebrated so many holidays past. I hear you singing along with Bing’s White Christmas – the song you had to hear on the radio to denote the official start of the season. I feel you with me, and still sleep with your pajamas in my arms. I watch your memorial video to remember how much you were loved by so many, and will play The Night Before Christmas video I recorded, with you reading to the Grands last year. And I’m wearing my cashmere underneath the ugly Christmas sweater. Just for you.
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| Christmas 2016 |
