Holidays- WHY ARE THEY SO HARD.
The word conjures mixed feelings of nostalgia, sadness, joy, excitement, and a lump in my throat.
In a chaotic world, the routine of the holidays can be a special anchor of connection- the anchor of Grandma’s mashed potatoes, the way we always put that greenery just so, the special plates we always use, even Uncle Joe’s snarky commentary at the dinner table is secretly loved because it is HIM and we would rather be in a room with all of our people than not with them.
At this moment, I am writing on Thanksgiving morning- in the room that my daughters share.
I am sitting in the chair my bonus daughter, Brooklynn sits in when she is here.
It is available for me to sit in because she is not here.
Neither is my daughter, Abigail.
For a long time, when they weren’t here I would just avoid their room. I couldn’t bear to see their beautiful angel fairy room without their presence in it. I would even close the door so I didn’t have to see. I pretended I couldn’t see my cloaked friend, “mourning” waiting in there for me.
But just this week I decided I’m going to sit in it when they aren’t here.
To allow myself to wallow.
To miss them.
To miss telling them to put their clothes in the hamper.
To miss their bickering.
To miss waking up to their magical laughing.
To wish for them.
In the separation process, we all carefully agreed to share the holidays with the “other parents” as my husband and I call my daughter’s father and his daughter’s mother. We pretended like not having our children with us wasn’t the most painful primal act of violence that a parent can ever go through.
Don’t let our carefully crafted maturity fool you- the pain of separation sometimes feels like half of my body is missing.
I feel an ache in my heart when they are not here; the ache intensifies on “special” days like today.
I know it is like that for many of you- whether you can’t be with your loved ones because they’re too far to just drive over- you have to “share” them with someone else- or they are in another dimension and you can’t touch their body anymore.
On days like today when we focus on love, joy, togetherness and special routines, love’s companion, grief, is right behind and beside us.
And so it takes a special act of courage to celebrate today in the fullness of feeling. In the fullness of the body.
That’s why so many folks get lost in the mind-numbing activities of the holidays- they are ignoring their own mourning assistant. If they just keep moving, maybe that hooded shadowy figure will just eventually go away.
And so today and the rest of the holiday season, to all my friends and family, both near and far, I hope you face that cloaked figure, sit and have a cup of tea with her, and see that she is actually the face of LOVE.
Today I’m going to cheers to the audacity and the foolishness of LOVE.
I hope you can find the strength to do so, too.