Holidays bring into sharp relief the "yes-and" nature of living with grief, the hard, now uncomfortably familiar dance of holding joy and sorrow simultaneously.
On a large scale, every holiday shines a light on the one who is missing and prods that deep, sore wound.
On a smaller scale, the wretched weather pummeling the Columbia Gorge has prevented us from gathering with our other children to celebrate Christmas.
The yes-and of this Christmas is layered. It holds the same sharp edges of the past four years, of feeling the heavy loss of our elder son while also celebrating and savoring with our other loved ones. It also holds this added weight of sadly longing to be with our other children...while treasuring having spent Christmas day with my mom and stepdad, who are 81 and 92 years old.
Yes, I am heart-sore and teary over the frustration of our happy plans with our kids...and after decades of living too far away for this, spending a winter holiday with my mom is absolutely priceless.
One way I cope with this awkward juggling act is something I've written about before: I do something tangible...physical...visible...to acknowledge the hard things. This is nothing big, that would be obvious to others. It is just the way I make room for the true story going on in my heart. When I give real space to the hard and painful weight I carry, it actually frees up room for...joy.
Today, this looked like the careful choosing of jewelry.
This has been, from the first early days of our loss, the most common way I honor my heart's suffering so I can function. Instead of just stuffing the feelings down, I give them official, private recognition.
I had the joyous opportunity of going to Christmas morning church today, with my husband, mom and stepdad. What a precious joy that was! Also...we were supposed to spend today with our younger son, our younger daughter and her husband, looking forward to our elder daughter and her husband joining the party tomorrow. It is hard to lose that. It is precious to be here.
Here is how I told my heart's story today:
The colored bracelet and the black one with the heart are about our children; the one who is gone and the ones we planned to be with today. I carried all of them very much in my heart today. The little gift-bow earrings were a deliberate choice, reminding my heart to not dwell only on what I don't have. I sometimes need a reminder to also be happy; to let the joy be big and real, too. The other earrings are small black crosses that I bought in the first wave of our grief. I often wear them when my heart is heavy. The bracelet with the silver feather is my "hope" bracelet. You know the poem that says, "Hope is a thing with feathers...?" The feather on this bracelet makes me think of hope. I almost always wear it when I wear the silver heart bracelet, a reminder to myself that while our loss is devastating and real...hope is also powerful and true.
If you are also walking this hard yes-and of grief in this season of special holidays, I just want to say that I see you. I see the weight on your heart. I feel the energy it takes to smile and to celebrate and while you truly love this special time, the extra effort it requires leaves you exhausted. I see the careful dance you do of making sure your special people know how you love being with them, while also holding the deep ache for the ones who are not there.
Hold on, dear ones.
This is hard.
You are doing a good job.
It is okay to feel happy in spite of your sadness.
It is okay to feel sorrow in the midst of happy celebration.
We hold both joy and sorrow at the same time.
It is difficult, but it is what we do.
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