A Different Christmas

It just doesn't feel like Christmas yet...only three days away, most of the gifts are wrapped, the tree is up, the weather is unseasonably warm. Feeling like I should be more sad, heavy with deep remembrance. But I'm not. I'm content. Feet moving forward to satisfy the checklist, taking time to breathe and savor in between. I can only imagine it's a God-Thing....loads of prayer keep me from staying in bed all day long. Keeping my eyes heavenward keeps me from crying. Writing lets the truth bubble to the surface. Not saying I haven't had my moments, but 80% of the time I'm doing just fine. Thankful for friends that check in to see if I'm still breathing, I can almost predict those that will check in on Dec 25 and Jan 2. Two of the hardest days still to come. Moving forward with curious anticipation. Boarding an airplane to spend the holidays with dear friends...finally still and deep conversations expected, a few tears may spill. But in this moment, I'm content. Feeling like she was rescued and I'm truly overjoyed that she's no longer suffering...on so many levels. She's in the safest place of all. How can I be sad? I do miss hearing her soft voice always seeing the shiny side of things. I do miss her velvety soft hands in mine. I do miss snuggling up beside her in bed, each of us silently browsing the latest Women's Day magazines. I even miss her loud snores and that strange gurgling sound her belly made when she laid on her left side.

She raised me well...the best she could with the resources available. Now I'm making my own Christmas memories...mother-child memories. Recreating that silent snuggle with Maya as we browse thru our phones...her showing me the funniest videos and playing the most elusive tunes. Cole reaches over a squeezes my hand much more now... I love his adult sized hand in mine. Oftentimes, I'll slide up and check his pulse like Mom did when I was little...just to make sure all is well.

This Christmas indeed will be very different...but today, in this moment, different is very, very good.

 

 

Be Still

Entering a season of memories...Last Thanksgiving was the beginning of the spiral towards Jan 2. Stepping into the holiday realizing I purposely keep myself in motion so I won't have to think. Hosting 17 family members all with different social comfort and anxiety levels followed by a two week host and entertain stint with the in-laws...all good memories, all good distractions. Hands and mind so flurried that I didn't realize the loss until Dad crossed the threshold without her. Like U2 without Bono, the room seemed full and empty at the same time. I keep expecting her to appear...she was so unassuming...just quietly appearing...meek yet powerful.  No words to describe her. I sidled up beside Dad to reintroduce him to the crowd as he usually bee lines to my comfy corner chair and begins his nap. This time, he participated. My hand on his shoulder, I take a good long look at him...he has aged....maybe shrunk an inch or two...then I see it. Amidst my inner flurry, my soul still for a split second...enough to see the faintest quiver of his chin. He's struggling, too. He disappears upstairs, laying for a moment in Cole's bed, regrouping but saying it's his nerves from driving. He returns later to help with a puzzle and never heads for that comfy corner chair.

 

Days later, a 90^th birthday for Tim's grandmother...25 aunts, uncles, and cousins gathered to celebrate yet

her mind so loose from Alzheimers it seemed mildly overwhelming. It was nice to take a backseat to this festivity. More for us than for her....what stories that mind could once share. Now among faces she no longer recognizes, she appeases us thru dinner, opening of presents, and a few snapshots but is adamant about being ready to leave. Father-in-law leads his exhausted mother to the car as we offer our goodbyes. While others hug and offer final chats, I'm feeling led to follow Wayne as he places his mother onto the seat. She's cumbersome, sliding too far on the seat for the seatbelt to reach, he envelopes her to reach the belt, but her head nestles gently onto his shoulder. And then it happens... I am blessed with the most touching moment...he stops and lets her rest on him, cooing gentle words in her ear. The two of them are motionless for what seems a sweet eternity. Feeling like the luckiest girl in the lot, my eyes swelling with tears, the seatbelt snaps and the moment ends.

Realizing that I'm keeping myself busier than required to avoid deep thoughts...However, when I'm most still, I'm able to witness magical moments. Taking this first year of memories day by precious day...not wishing it away, being intentional with my time, my words, my memories. Having to constantly remind myself that when the flurry rises, I will be still.