I should look back and see what I wrote a year ago at this time, but I have never looked back on my words and heart filled reflections. I wonder if I wrote the same thing, I wonder if I am in the same "place", I wonder if this pain of holiday blended with Allison's last weeks with us was as intense, or does it just seem as though my heart is going to be ripped to shreds with every ornament, Christmas Carol, with every trip to the store. Shouldn't I still be buying her those gifts? Why does everything I gravitate toward remind me of her...her smell, her comfort, her beauty, her inner strength, the pinks, turquoises, oranges, blended with the memory of 21 Christmas mornings blended into one final beautiful morning, complete with the peace that God granted us, the wonderment of a day meant for a family who didn't know what the next minute would bring for their beloved daughter and sister. Complete with a final picture of four, five counting our precious dog, Barkley, who now rests in peace with his girl.
The shopping that has taken place over the years, the gifts wrapped, the presents unwrapped, don't hold a candle to the memories. I don't really recall the fatigue, the hours of working and finding time to make the gingerbread houses, the cookies, the crafts, attend the holiday performances. Like giving birth, I suppose, I can barely remember the pain because of all the joy. Yes, sorrow too, pain, anguish, and all that goes into raising children, but the pure joy of having them on this earth overshadows it all. Now, I am praying that I can get through every shopping excursion, not really understanding the stabbing pain in my heart and every fiber of my being, not really wanting to go out and be reminded, feel the "triggers", see presents that would bring that momentary light to her eyes, allow my fingers to linger on the pajamas that she would have put right on, touch the coat that would have kept her warm in her Chicago town or trip to Boston.
There is no reason or rhyme as to why she is not here with us, and I have to believe she walks with Jesus, sends her pink glow in the form of our new Christmas tree, and sends me messages, "mom, I don't need the present but someone else does". I have to believe that the money I would spend on her would be better suited to buy the coat for a girl named Emily through angeltree.com, who has parents imprisoned and who cannot buy her a Christmas gift, or that the donation to Ronald McDonald House so that parents who need care while their children are receiving cancer treatments would honor her better than anything I can "buy" or place under the tree. I have to believe that her life will continue as long as those she left behind find a way to reach out to someone else in the ways we can, reaching out with our hands and offerings, little or big. I have to believe that God is using her in powerful ways.
It's not the shopping, it's not the presents, it's the spirit of Christmas, it's giving what we can, but knowing our time is far more valuable than the gift. After all, who really remembers what they got and when? We all remember the feelings, the games played, the laughter, the food, the table, the traditions, the memories.
I am thankful God hears me, even when I am shopping and don't think I can take another step, when the pain of loss seems to prevail over all else, when I try to carry on with traditions, when I make her favorite foods and cookies, when I wonder how I am going to get through this day, I am still thankful. Thankful that a husband comes home from work every day, for a daughter who loves to share stories and memories of her sister, while making new ones for herself, for a planned cookie baking day with her, for the ability to reach out and buy those presents that matter, in the name of God and a forever-21 young woman who inspires us all to keep going.
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