advent

It's a chilly Redwood City morning.  The Christmas lights twinkle.  I'm drinking my coffee and reading about how to manage a dysfunctional Christmas - this may be the year I don't break into tears.  yeah, right.

Mom's not here.  And though I hope, I don't "know" where she is.  I mean, I know where she is.  But more immediately and painfully, I know where she's not.

Chiquita, the beautiful, bossy, white, Mexican street cat, wants attention.  She leaps into my lap.  But, she's older now.  She misses by a foot.  And by that I mean her foot lands in my cup of coffee.  And we both leap then. 

This has been the saddest December I have known.  Duh.  Of course it has.  It's the tension.  The many tensions.  Work - not going swimmingly; the "firsts" without Mom.  Birthday and tree decorating and knitting Christmas and holiday and music and then, the presents.  What do you get for someone who's dead? 

Christmas cards are coming in for Mom from people I forgot to tell.  And should I send them a note in the return Christmas card about her death?  Should I wait until after the holidays?  How do people handle this?

And I want to send cards, but don't know what to say.  Merry Christmas?  I want others to have one, but how can I say that when I know now that sometimes it's absolutely impossible.  Oh, I say it.  I tell people.  I know others don't need my sad baggage.  They will have their own one day, if they don't already.

The joy, the happy, the cheer of the holidays it was made by my Mom who really got it.  She knew that we needed a time when the normal was put aside.  The important thing was to be together.  To look at shiny.  To bake some sweet.  To be together.  To play.

We had a beautiful (to my little eyes) nativity set that came out.  It had this filmy white material that was, surely from heaven, that we placed on the roof.  It was cool.  It was snow.

It disappeared after the first fire, I think.  I haven't opened the box with the one Mom replaced it with many years later.  I have my Advent wreath and candles out.  I've not lit the candles.  On the little trea is an ornament I made in 1977 - a paint it and bake it shrinky dink of the nativity.  It's childishly colored and glaringly tacky.  It will have to do and it does.

Comments

[Anne Welch]

Why don't you put together a weekend retreat on knitting and meditation. Get your community to sponsor it.

[susan]

Oh Christine, my heart goes out to you. This is the 4th Christmas since my mom died. Hard to believe it's been 4 years. I've of course "moved on" in my life, and it is actually easier, but then that's even hard - the fact that it gets easier, if that makes any sense.

I'd give yourself a pass for Christmas this year if I were you. Don't worry about cards. People will understand.

As to what to do about the cards coming in from folks who don't know, I'd wait until after Christmas for that? They won't get a reply before Christmas probably anyway, with the mail the way it is.

Just a thought.

Most of all ... take care of you! :)

[jerseygirl]

It is hard isn't it? I was back east two weeks ago and we packed up my parents house for the sale (the closing is today). Fifty-two years... I can't fathom other people living there.

I'm in no position to give you advice, but I can support you and share what I am doing... I live with it. I'm looking forward to 2008 by using the many hard lessons I have learned in 2007. And I look at my family... from a Mom and Dad + six kids (a family of 8) we are now a family of 29.. plus another great-niece to be added in 2008 to make it an even 30.

BTW- any chance you are going to Phoenix? we'll be there for Christmas.

[Mary]

Don't do anything that you do not want to do for this holiday. The first one is the hardest. Yet the pain will evolve into a warm memory. Time helps us with this. Forget the Christmas cards for this year. Perhap light a candle that is a reminder of your mother. This will be her remembrance candle for the holiday. Start thinking of new rituals, new traditions. Live on as your mother would like you to live on. Look to the future for her sake, if that is what it takes.

You continue to be in my prayers.

It's been six years since my mother died. Yet she lives on in me and my memories. She lives onand gives me strength.

[Moibear]

Of course you can give your Mother something. Have a Mass said for her.
Grieve, but do not let it rule you.
Celebrate CHRISTMAS with her.
"In rembrance there is no distance".

[Lisa]

Christine, understanding what you are experiencing, I send you lots of thoughts and prayers. As I said to a friend recently, in reference to our fathers who now celebrate Christmas at the eternal Nativity, holidays such as Christmas are often very hard and one doesn't much feel like celebrating, however, as I have thankfully come to experience at times (this is also true of Easter which was my father's holyday) these holidays can also be times of encountering them on a spiritual plane in a keenly aware way and being reminded concretely of our departed ones abiding presence with us and love for us!