I am so sad today. So, so sad. I’ve been trying to decorate for Christmas for the past two weeks, and just can’t seem to do it. It is heartbreaking – this loss of one of our children. I feel like I can’t breathe sometimes.
I’m afraid I’m soon going to come across the ornaments I purchased for the tree in honor of our son since he passed away – there are four of them, three of which have hung on the tree for the past 3 years, and one I bought last year to hang on the tree this year.
What was I thinking? I wanted to buy something for him for Christmas, like I always had, that’s what I was thinking.
There have been 5 Baby’s First Christmas ornaments hanging on our tree every year, for the past 32 years. Now there is a cross ornament bearing the date of our middle son’s birth and the date of his death; the first ornament I bought after he passed, a mere 6 weeks after burying him.
On days like today, I feel like, “How can I live through this?”
It’s just one of these days – a day of such heavy sorrow I feel like I can’t move. I feel “accomplished” today because I am getting some laundry done and I’ve watered some of my plants. Yippee.
Three different times I’ve tried stringing the wooden beads on our tree we bought last night – a fake tree – something none of our kids care for. But none of our kids live here anymore. I think this is part of the heaviness today. I’m not sure who I am, what I’m supposed to be doing (besides decorating for Christmas and doing laundry), what my purpose is, and so many more unknowns. Add to that this crushing sorrow and it being the Christmas season, and I think we have a nice recipe for some depression.
My dining room is so full of boxes that had Christmas ornaments and decorations in them, which I have more or less unpacked, that we have a narrow path through to get to the living room, where I am trying to decorate. I fear finding the cross ornament we bought the first Christmas after he passed in October, because today I feel like I might launch it across the room instead of hang it on our tree.
That is the kind of day it’s been.
4 hours later:
My hunny came home, held me while I cried, listened to me vent my anger, understood – like only he can – helped me decorate the tree, and is putting the collection of boxes back in the basement for me.
Thank God for the partner He gave me to travel with on this road called life.
Both my husband and I feel our loss more keenly this Christmas than we have since our son died. We’re not sure why. But we are sure we are thankful for each other.
“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor; if either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Ecclesiastes 4:9-12
2 comments on “Venting About Life at Christmastime”
Leanne, I’m so sorry. I can’t relate to the loss of a child, but I can relate to the feeling of not being sure of my identity since all the children are grown and mostly gone. It’s a lost feeling and I can’t imagine adding the weight of deep sorrow on top of it. I’m so glad the two of you have one another and when one is down the other can lift him/her up. When you look at your Christmas tree, remember that the baby born on that first Christmas is the reason that you have the hope of seeing your son again. I’m praying for you and trusting the Lord to comfort both of you.
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Thank you, Bonita. That is a good reminder. And thank you for your prayers. I appreciate them more than I can say.