Merry Christmas

It has to get worse before it gets better. That’s what I keep telling myself today. And over the last couple months as the second year of widowhood is proving more challenging than the first. The shock is over, and I realize so much is adding up: the lack of her nurturing, her companionship, etc. while the responsibilities seem to be exponentially growing. 

In many ways Angela was the embodiment of this day: full of light and unconditional love, an incredible gift giver (and receiver), thoughtful and graceful. And how empty our household feels right now. Well actually it feels more like a frat house these days…. It’s been a rough week, just on the pragmatic side alone, not to mention the harder to see emotional aspects as we enter the holidays... 

Both kids were home sick all week. Of course, the week before break, when they are home all week. One of the most obvious impacts of that is seen in the kitchen. That’s 20 additional meals plus innumerable snacks. And other detritus of the day. And the stress of nursing, making sure they are taking care of themselves by eating decent food and drinking water. “Dad, I have been coughing all day, do we have cough syrup?” The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind…

Also, Birch broke his collarbone a week ago. The reality is setting in of no snowboarding or basketball season. A long winter just got a lot longer! I am not only picking up his chores (feeding cats, bringing in firewood, shoveling, etc) but I am also nursing him and supporting (absorbing?) his mental health challenges during this time without those joyful and competitive outlets. Just what I needed.

“Dad, we don’t have any decorations up,” was a sentiment I was dreading. Christmas was Angela’s thing. Amidst the work and parenting and trying to stay healthy myself, I knew I would have to confront this barrier. Address the baggage of this first Christmas at home. Getting a tree was the first step, then digging out the boxes and going through all those years together to decorate the tree. I was stuck, with no emotional or physical energy to do that. 

Then a friend offered to drop off a tree. The first barrier removed, at least logistically. I had to work through the emotional piece and found the love in that offer to accept the help that was so much more than a tree. It was a gift that opened up my heart to more gifts. River has Angela’s holiday spirit and was excited to decorate the tree. Birch, one handed, had little to offer. And just like that we had a tree up full of memories. As the kids’ hand-made ornaments went up, the tears came down. 

A men’s group also served to open the floodgates. We gathered around our firepit on a crisp and clear night like Angela did with her friends so many times. The next morning I was overcome with emotion and was able to release the tension of sadness and stress from the previous days (weeks, months…years?). Upon reflection, I was really struck by the love and joy many of the fathers told about  interactions and relationships with their kids. That is just not my reality.  I am playing too much bad cop as I struggle to get through each day while supporting them and their, so very hard to understand, adolescent needs and wants. It pains me to figure out how to find time and headspace for playing good cop.

Throughout the week, packages and cards arrived from family and friends. The tree was the receptacle for that love and became a source of love and joy for us. Kids were happy to see the presents added daily. I felt the connection to Angela’s open heart. The excitement for this day slowly building in the house as I felt the guilt for not wrapping up any of my intended packages to friends and family. I was waiting for the school photos to arrive before sending. They still haven’t… and I am not beating myself up for not sending packages! My new Mantra: Perfect is not the enemy of the good in this frat house.

On Christmas eve, we went to see Avatar in 3-D! I had been looking forward to that for a long time! I knew it was going to be fun, exciting and cathartic. I didn’t know how cathartic it would be! First, it was a movie experience that Angela and I had enjoyed and felt connected to. After all, we had spent countless days with indigenous people and others around the world that share that deep spiritual connection to nature and their surroundings. And the deep faith they show in that connection. I cried as I remembered the connection from the movie to the depth of Angela’s strong faith in the divine. 

I was also shocked to be confronted with the stark reality of such obvious colonialism, opening a wound that I have been overlooking recently. I have to admit being overwhelmed with the daily reality of survival and a little disconnected from current events. I cried hard for the reminder of the pain of colonialism on countless people and the planet. I cried for not sharing this experience with Angela and missing her by my side. I cried for not hearing her remind me that the movie is great and all but there still is a white male savior. I cried at all the destruction and loss faced in the story. I remembered that I am connected to grief and loss in new and powerful ways. I wasn’t ready to face the world at the end of the movie. I needed to sit in the darkness and cry for all the grief in the world. I need more space to grieve. But I don’t have that time and space these days.. 

We grabbed burgers and fries for a special Christmas Eve dinner! The excitement was overwhelming and I was so stressed out as I couldn’t handle the jumping around and up-in-my-grill evening. I wanted to do just about anything else other than absorbing what I am guessing was mixed emotions. We finally could play a game together, and settled into a game of hearts. Then we watched old family videos on Youtube. And laughed a lot! Much needed belly laughs before bed. 

Christmas morning I woke to the excited feet of River. Still exhausted after waking is my new normal. The kids were gathered around the tree. I struggled to bring in firewood, and they hardly cleared a path for me. I lit a fire. I fed the cats. They told me to hurry up. I sobbed at the kitchen sink as I rinsed out the cat food can. I felt the intense pressure of a special morning on a special day. I felt the intense loss on this special day. I felt the immensity of emotional, physical and mental exhaustion. I had been dreading this moment and here I was. 

I pulled it together and engaged in the joy of accepting gifts from family and friends. We are here, alone, as a grieving family, surrounded by the gifts and photos of friends and family from all over. Excitement at the thoughtfulness and generosity of others. The connections to those not physically here. Gifts supporting our continued healing and growth and joy. A reminder of abundance and gratitude. And of so many people who love us and pray for us and support us in innumerable ways.

I feel the much needed support in the spiritual work of being in the balance between joy and pain. And I know that things can be so much worse and that something unseen is supporting me. Right now though, despite all the love and support, I am not falling into the trap of toxic positivity. I struggle on a daily basis to show up for my kids as best I can, and to show up at work as best as I can, and to show up for myself. I try to pretend that I am good. That I am healing. But I am still hurt. Really hurt! And exhausted! And it hurts even more when I pretend that I am normal. That I got this. I feel better when I remember, even though it hurts so bad, that I am injured. Ironically, I feel better when I acknowledge that I am not better?

I spent a lot of the day processing, while doing dishes and other chores, while the kids escaped by playing video games. Remembering that family and friends and billions of others are also struggling today, and every day. If we are lucky enough to have a job; it’s stressful. We have illnesses. I lit a candle for a friend with cancer. “Why do so many of Mom’s friends have cancer?” That I am not the only lonely person. 

Thanks for getting through this. As usual, this was an invaluable exercise for me to process and let people know what is really going on. I hesitate to post, but I know it is an important part of my commitment to healing and getting stronger. And I want people to know all this, but I really don’t want to tell you. In fact, I don’t think I can tell you. You have to read it. Sending lots of love and healing on this very special Angelic day. A day of love for so many and a day of sadness for so many. A day of being human and holding the balance of joy and suffering. The light and the dark. The bittersweet.