This time last year I bought this little Christmas tree at the dollar store, along with some ornaments and a tree skirt to decorate in my tiny apartment. A whopping investment of $15. I have loads of Christmas decorations and ornaments stored at my brother's house in Texas, but I didn't bring them with me to Louisiana. In fact, they have been packed away for over ten years. Up until last Christmas, I was completely "Bah Humbug" on the whole season, Thanksgiving included. That is what loss can do for you...if you let it.
With the passing of my parents and my beloved older brother, my divorce and just general hard times, my Christmas spirit abandoned me almost entirely. Oh, I put on a cheerful face when cornered by well wishing friends, but I avoided invitations to spend Christmas day with their families, because frankly why would I want to be with your family if I couldn't be with my own? Basically, I just gritted my teeth until December 26th, and all the merriment ceased.
Now, I am not at all prone to depression or even a sustainable pity party. That is my blessing. And I have been on a journey for many years to establish a simple life of joy and gratitude, but the holidays were one hill I circumvented year after year. Until last year, when I decided it was time to reclaim my Christmas spirit, even if it was the minimal effort to decorate one, tiny tree. Although I was home, alone, I made it as special an occasion as possible. I poured myself a libation, put on some Christmas music and got to decorating the tree (my sweet friend, Margaret, gifted me the beautiful "S" ornament). Of course, once finished (took about 30 minutes), I turned off all the apartment lights and sat back to admire the lights on the tree.
I don't regret the ten plus years I declined to participate in Christmas, I needed that time to heal. But, once I took that small step out of my self-imposed exile I could actually feel my ship right itself a bit, as if one of my long ignored sails had gloriously unfurled and I was, once more, skimming over the water instead of doggedly rowing through each and every wave. This year I couldn't wait to unbox the tree, set it up and plug in its lights.
Why am I telling you this story? Well, I'm keenly aware that we all have seasons, days, and moments when loss and grief overtake us, especially as we grow older. I don't know if my story relates to you, Dear Heart, but if it does, know that my little Christmas tree is for you too. I am wishing you all the joys of the season and the happiest of new years.
Cheers,
Sally
