And here we are, another Christmas. Time slips through our fingers like sand. Sometimes within the sand, there are sharp pieces of glass. Those pieces of glass can pierce us as they make their way through our lives. They hurt, they get stuck, and they leave scars. But they become part of the fabric of our being, of who we are. They live here, too.
I’m relieved that Christmas Day is here. The preparation that goes into this one day can be exhausting, especially for those facing difficulties. For months, the goal is Christmas. I remember the magic of Christmas when my four kids were living at home. The baking, crafting, shopping, the Christmas music, although I’ve been told my music ruined them for life. Who doesn’t like Amy Grant Christmas? The anticipation of Christmas Eve when Santa finally makes his way to our rooftop. To see the joy on their sweet faces Christmas morning as they woke up to find what Santa had left, was priceless. And now my grown children experience Christmas through the eyes of a child. Their own children, their nieces and nephew. It surely is a magical time.
But not everyone views Christmas through the eyes of a child. This past year has been challenging for everyone. And frightening. The pandemic has swept through our world, touching everyone in one way or another. Yet, we try to find some sort of normalcy during the Holiday Season. I’m wondering if we realize how hard that is for some? We don’t want to be Debbie Downer, so we go along with the parade. We ohhh and ahhh over the beautiful lights and decorations. We bake those cookies and goodies and give them to our friends and family because that’s what we’ve always done. We purchase presents and mail them on their way. We go through the motions. That’s sad to me. Grief lives here, too.
My message today is two-fold: It’s okay to not be okay. You don’t need to pretend you are, either. You don’t need fixing, you need compassion and acknowledgement. You don’t need someone to tell you it gets better, because you won’t believe it anyway. And that’s just annoying. Stand tall in your grief. Whether you are grieving the loss of a loved one, the loss of a job, the cancer diagnosis, or any number of horrific circumstances, Stand Tall. Grief lives here, too.
And the second thing- If you can take a minute today to reflect on someone you know that may need that virtual hug, that text or phone call. It can be a hard day.
We all need love. Isn’t that what today is about anyway?
Merry Christmas and Peace on Earth.
2 thoughts on “Grief lives here, too”
Well done Susie, a a special hug for you.
Beautiful as always, Susan. Just like you…open and honest and a blessing. Thank you for writing this. Merry Christmas!