THE HOLIDAYS Part IV

The holidays that were looming on the horizon have come and gone. Those points in the future that you look forward to, or hope will never come, inevitably arrive. I will remember this holiday season with mixed feelings. My children and I received so many kind words and well wishes from friends and family that I can’t help but be thankful to be so loved, but the huge hole on our hearts was often exposed. I guess it’s natural for the holidays, when the world around you is partying, to expose the grief that has settled in your bones. One of the things I’ve learned is that some of the same feelings that hit so hard at the beginning, some of the original shock, comes roaring back when you want to be happy. Shopping for gifts, exchanging gifts, while enjoyable, all seemed a little empty this year. There were times when I simply could not hold back the tears. At those times it is good to know that it is OK not to hold them back and is really best to let them flow. Another thing I’ve learned is that I am so thankful that my kids were with me the whole season. They have been so good to me and we have grown even closer through our loss.

The time I was dreading the most was New Year’s Eve. I did not want to leave the kids without plans for the night and didn’t really know what I wanted to do. As it turned out the kids all had plans to do things with friends and I was asked to join the group of couples that Carol and I had been spending New Year’s Eve with for the last several years. I went alone (obviously) but it was good. I had a good time and every one was gracious. I chose to leave early and be home alone “when the ball dropped”. The experts say it is healthy to reserve time for “preserving memories” and grieving. That’s what I chose to do at midnight. I also had a little ceremony involving God, me and my memory of Carol, in which I removed my wedding ring. That was as difficult as anything else the Holidays threw at me but I thought it was an appropriate time. I still wear it, and hers, only not on my third finger of my left hand.

It is now January second. 2006 is over. Good riddance. I wish we could go back one year and have a “do over”. But I know the events that caused pain in 2006 were out of our control and I certainly would not want those loved ones (or their “survivors”) to have to go trough what they did again. I am currently reading a novel by James Michener in which there are just three (very long) chapters. The chapter titles are “Arrivals”, “Explorations”, and “Departures”, his metaphor for life. For some reason God allowed 2006 to be the year of “Departures” for some people I most dearly loved.

When I think 2007, with all the wishes for a “Happy New Year” still so fresh, I wonder how the happy part will happen. I trust there will be joys and I fear there will be more sorrows. My perspective is that life is lived at different levels or planes. We all desire to achieve a higher level of happiness and many do. After 28+ years together, I feel Carol and I had attained, with God’s grace, a level of happiness that was a higher plane than earlier in our lives, higher, certainly than before we had met each other. Now I’ve been knocked down to ground level. Instead of being near the top I exist at the bottom plane. Instead of being in the penthouse suite I occupy the furnace room. (At the same time I take comfort in knowing that Carol has “won the game” and she exists in the most joyful of all levels.) I know I have a climb ahead of me to get any where near the level we were when together. I really do not expect to ever get there in this life. What I am learning is that what ever level or plane on which I currently exist, to seek joy, to make someone’s life better, to trust God, to accept love, these things bring joy. As my heart heals, I pray that God will allow me to gradually attain more happiness and share that with others.
That is my prayer for you as well in the New Year.