Faithful Paradox

It’s that season where we start to come out of the holiday slump. People are back at their routines. New Years resolutions have been made. Holiday travel has been completed. We’re through the holidays, but they are close enough in the rearview mirror that everyone still asks about them. “How was your Christmas? Your New Years?”

I find right now these are hard things to answer. It feels like there’s this hopeful anticipation from well-intentioned people; “Maybe they’ll be better this year? Maybe since it’s the third year they will start to snap out of it?”

I wish it were as easy as simply snapping out of it. There are two sides to every coin. On the one hand, our holidays were great. We had all 4 boys home. We had time together. We saw extended family. Every one stayed healthy(ish). We had some fun, ate good food, watched movies. Presents were enjoyed, rest was had. Overall, I cannot complain.

The other side of the coin… This was our first Christmas home as a family since losing Ezra, and it was really, really hard. The last two years, we travelled. I think some of it was simply avoidance – the intensity of the memories and all the trappings that come with the holiday – our hearts were just not ready to engage at that depth yet. Some of it was that we were gifted some really generous resources that allowed us to travel beyond what our normal budget allows. Some of it was we just simply needed Christmas to, well, not feel like Christmas. At least not like any Christmas we have ever known.

The reality is though, that even though we were home this year for Christmas, every person in our family expressed at some point they regretted the decision. They longed for the anticipation of a trip. They longed for the distraction of a separate location to soothe our still broken hearts. We all still desired, to some extent, that Christmas just didn’t feel quite so Christmasy. Our 12 year old wisely said, however, “Mom, we had to do it at some point. We had to be home. Might as well just get it over with.”

Might as well just get it over with.

A piece I am realizing once again is that with loss, comes so many layers. My boys used to call me the “Christmas Queen.” I was one of those who was itching to listen to Christmas music come September. The second it was culturally acceptable to begin to decorate, I would. I loved everything about Christmas. Everything! I didn’t mind the commercialism, the cheesy movies, the extra scheduled items. I didn’t mind the holiday concerts and extra family expectations. It all delighted me.

Now? Well, we might as well just get it over with. Christmas has become something that must be endured; gotten through. The truth is, this feels like another piece of loss. In many ways, it feels like an unexpected loss.

It’s strange how many tentacles grief has. It reaches out and grabs on to every aspect of life; some you expect, but many you don’t. I knew when we lost Ezra that holidays would be hard. It’s understandable. There are extra memories, extra care, extra thoughts given to these times. I think what I didn’t expect is to feel grief over the fact that now, the holidays are just something to be endured. It’s not simply that Ezra is gone, but it’s also that all the memories I once had have now been affected as well. I’m not to the place yet where the bitter turns sweet. I’m not to the place yet where the memories feel like warm hugs or longings. I’m still in the place where it just hurts. I desire to overflow with gratitude. We have so much for which to be grateful. Simultaneously, the ache is still so deep, so present that it’s hard to express gratitude without the grief. They are so coupled, so intertwined, so much a part of one another that there is no space where one exists without the other.

Answering the question, “How was your Christmas?” is hard. There is a very real sense that I’m tired of being sad and just want to coldly say, “it was great” and move on. But that feels deeply disingenuous. The truth is, we got through. We endured our first Christmas home since losing Ezra, and despite the fact that presents were exchanged, despite the fact that delicious food was enjoyed, despite the fact that we were healthy and together, despite the fact that we have so much to celebrate and be grateful for, it still hurt. Deeply.

Maybe that’s what healing is all about. Moving forward doesn’t mean the pain is gone. It simply means that you get through it and maybe next year, when the time comes again, it might hurt a little less. It’s not an absence of pain, but it’s pressing forward despite the pain. It’s learning to hope, even though that hope hurts. It’s learning to celebrate, even though that celebration comes with baggage and pain. It’s choosing not to avoid, but to engage, even though it’s hard. It’s grief now forever married to gratitude. They co-exist, side-by-side. They are forever hand-in-hand, two sides of the same coin. We got through, and maybe that’s worth something.