Grieving But Grateful to Be At Home for the Holidays

“If you concentrate on finding whatever is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.”

– Rabbi Harold Kushner

Situations can change quickly. Without warning. We know this. Whether it’s from personal experience or being an outside observer, we see how everything can change quickly. We may have to change plans or cancel them altogether.

We can choose go with the flow or resist the change. To feel content or discontent is a choice.

With that in mind as I write this, at the moment while all is well, I feel grateful that my plans are to be in my home to celebrate the winter holidays. Chief Daddy is back in his house after a few weeks in the hospital before Thanksgiving, so I feel hopeful that he remains in good health and on the mend. The outlook is good.

As I was typing, in the midst of feeling happy about being at home, I realized I’ve arrived at a time of nothing to distract me from decorating this year.

And I feel more lost than festive.

I reckon it’s a part of grief, and I would have found myself in this spot last year if it wasn’t delayed by distractions.

The past two Decembers brought me to Virginia because of unforeseen events.

• I spent most of December 2018 away from home. At the beginning of the month, I knew I would be away on business for a week (India Part 1, Part 2, Part 3) and planned to decorate when I got back. I didn’t know that when I returned, I would have a couple of days at home before going to Virginia where my mom was hospitalized. And when I packed a week’s worth of clothes, I didn’t know I would end up staying for a solid two months with only a short trip home before returning to Virginia to help my dad after my mom died.
• Last year I dealt with a similar situation of being away from home for most of December because my dad was hospitalized in November then released from subacute rehabilitation five weeks later. I don’t remember much from last year except for Chief Daddy’s request that his kids and grandkids gather at Mommy’s grave to honor her on the first anniversary of her death. He wasn’t able to join us, but we gathered and my brother led us in readings and prayers.

Here I am in my house, two years after my mom died, and for two years I haven’t decorated the house for the holidays because I wasn’t home to do it. And even with as much gratitude as I have for being home and having looked forward to being home, I haven’t felt compelled to do even minimal decorating.

I feel good being home. I feel grateful to be home. “It is well with my soul.” But at the moment, no amount of gratitude will distract, detour, or stop me from traveling through another stretch of the path called grief.

The Festivus Pole is our annual pop culture humor and not really connected to celebrating the winter holidays. I usually hang our stockings from holders that sit on the mantle, but doing so means relocating my mom’s picture from the mantle; and I feel unready to make a temporary change even though I know I would take down decorations on The Epiphany in January.

I’ve grown accustomed to seeing her face every day, every time I walk through the family room. Mommy’s picture on the mantle has become a constant on which I can rely. I feel comforted from the visual that often conjures encouraging memories from when she would tell me what she liked or didn’t like about one of my poems or essays. I often look at her picture on the mantle when I’m searching for words while I write.

I remember feeling grateful to my mom for her understanding and being so accommodating when I asked that my little family celebrate the holidays with them in Virginia in mid-December so that my Keets could wake up in their own house on Christmas morning and see what Santa Claus brought overnight.

I remember feeling angry every time my mom called and said that my dad had changed and become more peaceful. She pleaded for me and my dad to reconcile after several years of not going up to Virginia to see my parents before Christmas. I remember feeling stubborn when I told her that if he couldn’t bring himself to call and invite me himself, I would not come to see them.

I remember feeling appreciated when my mom thanked me for taking the first step in clearing the slate with my dad. I remember feeling relieved that my dad was willing to let go, accept our differences, and let that be the change we needed in order to get along with each other instead of trying to make the other person change.

I remember feeling happy when my mom received her Christmas wish of having all three of her kids with her and my dad during Christmastime 2017.

I remember feeling protective of my dad on Christmas Eve Day 2018 when a waitress was impatient with him, but she would could not have known that only 12 hours earlier, his wife of nearly 52 years died.

I remember feeling strong when I went to speak with the waitress without losing my shit and asking her for her compassion when I explained my dad’s situation. I remember feeling connected to her when she revealed that her father died earlier in the year, and she and her mother were facing their first Christmas without him. Once we knew what the other was facing, we both showed more kindness and understanding to each other for the rest of that visit.

I remember feeling proud of my dad last year for making it through his first year as a widower. He adjusted and grew when I was convinced he was never going to change. But he did.

I feel grateful for memories… even the not-so-great ones. They led me to appreciate what I have in every way that one may “have” anything.

Our family has plans for a day trip to see Chief Daddy and visit my mom’s grave later this month. In the meantime, if I arrive at wanting to display the tabletop trees or hang the stockings or set out any seasonal decorations, I’ll do it. I’m going with the flow instead of trying to cram myself into others’ expectations that holiday spirit is reflected in decorations.

Whatever you have been through this year or even across the span of your life, may you give yourself peace this month. May you shine your light through compassion, empathy, kindness, and love for yourself first by finding gratitude for what you have, and it will shine for others who are having trouble with their own light.

Luceat lux vestra.