Christmas 2017

Christmas is a time to pause in the busyness of life and spend some quality time with family or ones you love. For those who have no one it must be extremely hard, I can only imagine a tiny bit- I know what it feels like to not have Terry at Christmas but I can't imagine if I didn't have these ones I love in my Christmas. My children, son-in-laws, my grandchildren, parents, sister. To be alone without them would be truly unbearable. What I feel without Terry multiplied by many many times- yeah unbearable. This year I tried really hard to not think about loss, to instead think about all I had and have and how grateful I am for it, for being with them all. Having them lighting up my life and filling it as they do.

My house was full from Christmas eve to late Christmas night. It was glorious and wonderful and special. Matt and Mary were home for the first time to celebrate Christmas with us since Terry died. Their happiness was contagious, simply contagious. I saw it through their eyes and it was a nice sight indeed. My camera captured a tiny bit of it in this shot. Mary had not celebrated Christmas with Rupert ever and she couldn't wait to see him and Molly open gifts. It meant so much to her and you can see that in her smile here as she hugs him. I had a moment, a brief moment where I grieved that Terry had never had the joy she is experiencing here, that he and Rupert never will. I just allowed it a brief moment - ever so fleeting it was there, I acknowledged it, I let it go-  into the ether with him as a heartfelt prayer from my this time present- consciousness. It was right to give this credence.

This is how I imagine life will be here on in. I think this might be how it happens, you gradually allow yourself to see the good to feel it to live it even if it's through others not yourself. You have moments of attaching that good moment you now can experience to the one you lost and you honor that intrusion. You no longer see it as a segue to an hour of crying, to dipping into the depression again. You just honor that moment- the presence of your loss and the absence of your lost one- in it. Oh the moments of out and out crying and grief still exist- they no longer show up as waves threatening to drown you and sweep you out to sea, but they exist. They come more unexpectedly I find and catch me unaware. Perhaps that is a good sign, it might mean I am busy getting on with living and coming out of the land of the undead. The time spent in the land of the undead gets shorter and I visit less often. This frees up some space to see the moments like the one I captured above. It makes room to hear the joy in my son in laws voice as he tells me how his Christmas is so special here with my family this year. This is good, it is how I heard it happens, it is happening for me.

It does not mean I don't still grieve and miss my love, I have much space in my heart for that as well. As I spoke about in my previous post, it is there. I will always reserve that piece of my heart, nothing will fill that space, nothing - and that is as I believe it should be. It was just very good this year at Christmas to know my heart can feel both reserve for Terry and my grief in missing him, and joy and happiness in my family. This dichotomy works for me.