Christmas Things

I never knew that each and every Christmas item to be placed in its "traditional" spot could evoke such a landslide of emotion. I never knew that each song and carol in the stores and in the car, could stop me completely from making a move. I never knew that creating the standard array of Christmas cookies could move me to tears, tears that feel as though they could shed for days. I didn't know the mere touch of a handmade ornament would take me places that are both joyous and sad at the very same time. I didn't know a heart could take this much. I didn't know until she was gone.

I guess there are some things that must be experienced rather than told, and grief, mixed with the holidays, mixed with her final weeks on earth, make for a wave that can knock you down and keep you breathless. I know this to be true because I feel like I am holding my breath, and have been, for weeks. I do this because I know what is coming. I don't invite it, I don't ask for it, I don't even want it, but it comes anyway, that time of year when the glorious celebration of Christmas, blended with the intensely beautiful days, the memorable "last" days of a life...the "last" time we made cookies, the "last" time we decorated a tree, the "last" visit to church, the "last" selection of favorite Christmas CD's, the "last" weeks at home when I became short order cook, nurse, shopper, housekeeper, you name it...and what a joyous privilege it was, even at the time. Did my inner sense know that these were the "last" times of earthly happenings? Is that why I derived such pleasure from them and would opt, even now, for that, over this?

We had no time to digest the ravaging cancer, 11 weeks, so we took each day and the news that came, responded and dealt with it. We prayed, we laughed, we hoped, we endured, and we came to know what life is really all about and what was/is important. We came to know that never again will we complain about the small things, that out of tragic circumstances, comes a faith and closeness to God and each other that can even be described as worth the journey. We came to understand the Christmas story in ways that had seemed rather remote at the time, and we came to put our complete faith and trust in God, whose will WILL be done. He took care of us all, held us up, and still does. There is no other explanation for how I am still standing, or coping, or entertaining, or cooking, or tending to my family, or even getting up when every corner of my being is screaming out in pain and sorrow. How do I do it, some ask, and I know my answer, fully and completely, by God's grace.He knows this is my trial and my sadness and I know it saddens Him, but he heals and protects, while never promising us smooth sailing.

Yes, as I look in the boxes of Christmas decorations, and close some lids, knowing that they may have to wait for another year, the emotion of putting them up is too raw and painful. But some will be there, tucked away, or placed in a very special spot, lit up and beautiful, the sign that Christmas is coming, these weeks are evolving, bit by bit, and Allison is part of it all. She is gone in the physical sense, but never far from any of us. God will get us through this storm, and then it will calm, and even rear its head again, we will get a respite now and then, and we will find our way. For now, the tears come, the memories are beautiful, yet difficult, it's too soon, too raw and too profound, time will help, and God will ease our hearts.