My body still sleeping, but my senses fully awake
The delightful scents coming from the kitchen are my alarm clock for today
She is already up, frolicking about our home, preparing for this glorious day ahead
Oh, Christmas. One of my mother's most favorite holidays
My mom was never one to plan ahead, but when it came to Christmas decorations, preparation started as soon as holiday items hit the shelvesShe spent weeks transforming our home into a winter wonderland
Whimsical elves hanging from every nook and cranny, 4 foot tall Santa greeting you when you walked in the door, the Christmas Village consuming every ounce of space left on the kitchen bar
There was no such thing as "too extravagant" when it came to Christmas in her book
I loved how much time and effort she poured into every Christmas to always kept the spirit of the season alive
She continued to address our presents "From Santa", hide the pickle in the tree on the eve, and truly out-do herself with an abundance of food and surprises
In the years since her passing, I have boycotted my once favorite holiday
The wound of her absence growing more raw as the days before Christmas dwindle away
The thought of celebrating such a joyous holiday without her carries an overwhelming abundance of sadness and guilt
The last two years of Christmas, I have spent them surrounded by other's traditions, trying my best to fight the emerging waterfall of hysteria looming behind my eyes
My once "whole" family was broken and divided by the tragedy and grief
The holiday season ensued more pain than joy and the thought of doing it without the person who made it the most celebrated time of the year was almost more than we could bare
Three Christmases later, and this is the first year I have willingly uncovered some of the decorations she once used from their cardboard homes in the basement
I have placed them around our house in her honor
Though it sends a painful twinge to the root of my gut, like alcohol poured over my open wound, I know it would make her proud
The important parts of my family have mended themselves and this year, we will be celebrating together, just as I know my mom would have wanted
When my mother died, the joy I found in Christmas went right along with her.
Christmas has never and will never be the same without her and slowly, I am learning to accept that
There is joy in the love that surrounds me and I feel blessed to be surrounded by so much of it.
I am grateful for the traditions and memories created with my mother that I am able to carry with me always and share with my own family one day
Christmas was our favorite because it was hers, and though grief through the holidays is inevitable, we will find joy in the day knowing she isn't so far away
. . . . . . . .
"Grief, I've learned, is really just love. It's all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go."
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