The Twelve Days of Christmas: Day Seven
Last time I shared my best Christmas surprise ever. This week's story is not as upbeat as I am going to share one of my saddest Christmases. What was your saddest Christmas ever?
If you have been fortunate enough to know some happy Christmases, as I have, the sad ones really stand out. You probably can remember your saddest Christmas....I have three very sad Christmases.
My first Christmas without my dad was a sad Christmas. He died suddenly at the age of 59 and it took us awhile just to get over the shock, before the grief set in. He was a positive, loving, vital force in our family, very much the head of the family and the hole he left behind could not be filled. This was my first great loss, our first big break in the family I knew.
I can remember thinking that I would just like to skip Christmas but everyone pointed out that we would have to have our first Christmas without him eventually and so we, of course, like all families experiencing loss, plodded through.
There were four little grandchildren to provide distraction and were a thankful focus. Our sadness contrasted with one's expectations of a happy Christmas.
My mother remarried and Christmases after that took place at my sister's house and although my dad was always missed, we managed, as families do.
One Christmas, my sister's oldest boy, age 11, was diagnosed with cancer, the week before Christmas.... we were all reeling with grief and fear and dread. Christmas was instantly changed from my sister's house to my mom's house that year.
My mom, who was not normally a big participator in these events but who was gifted with being able to rise to the occasion where necessary, went all out and got these wonderfully coloured stockings that could hold a pile of goodies. She filled them to overflowing for the grandchildren. It was not something they were used to her doing and the children were surprised and excited. I can still see those stockings hanging in the hall. Full, they must have hung about five feet in length.
It was a much needed distraction for all of us and some festivity was brought into the day for the children despite the diagnosis which was looming in our midst. The chemotherapy treatments would begin the day after Christmas. I remember looking at my sister and her husband and thinking how, no matter what, they would never be the same again. I remember looking at my nephew John and just wanted to drink in the sight of his healthy little self. This story does have a happy ending. He is now a grown man with four children of his own.
The next and sad Christmas was the first one after my husband left us. It was hard for my girls and I to feel as though we were even a family anymore. But that foundation of the larger family got us through. We kept to our usual routine of being home Christmas morning and opening our own gifts, then heading off to Toronto to be with the rest of the family.
Again, my mother, not typically committed to making Christmas happen anymore, rose to the occasion and went out of her way to make this one special (although to tell you the truth, the kind of grief I was in then, I don't remember much of the details).
When you are grieving over loss, your expectations of Christmas are low anyways and so there are usually no unfulfilled expectations of Christmas during that time.
Depression can have that effect too. If you are already depressed you don't have great expectations about Christmas.
Maybe the word 'merry' is the problem? Maybe there is pressure to have a 'merry' Christmas. What word could we substitute for it? I can't think of one, can you? Or wait, maybe 'blessed', yes 'blessed' that would be better for me.
Even on the Christmases that I was sad, that I was NOT 'merry' I was 'blessed' with family around me.
WHAT ABOUT YOU? How are you feeling today? Are you experiencing loss this season? What would it take to make this Christmas 'blessed' for you? Have you thought about it? Is it possible?
Don't give up! There is hope for depression.
