Stocking Smash

December 8, 2008

I feel like I am on a collision course with Christmas, and I cannot avoid it. How can I celebrate without you? How can I wake up and smile and pretend that this is an acceptable reality? How can I go from house to house and endure the meals and the prayers and the picture-taking and the discussions about what you would be doing and the corporate memories. I know that you would want me to have a good time and relax and smile and make sure that we take lots of pictures… in spite of what I feel you would like, I just cannot do it.

I feel like I have been moving in a direction pulled by my grief. The inertia of this anguish is difficult to even stop for a minute to look outward, much less take a step in another direction. The truth is that I am not on track for a lasting collision with anything, for that would mean an end to the grief. What is certain is that I will never stop colliding with Christmas or birthdays or smiles or all the celebrations that this colorless life has to offer.

I feel as though this inertia has become me and that I will continue moving in this vehicle crashing through experience after experience with unmatched resolve. What can stop this? What can quiet my unrest? What can fill my emptiness? What can disconnect me from my loneliness?

I know that Christmas will come and go and I will endure it, but I fear bringing others along for the ride. I cannot and will not fake it.


2 Responses to “Stocking Smash”

  1. Lanessa said

    I am enduring a heavy heart through my first holidays without my husband. I want to skip over Christmas, but can’t for my son. It is the hardest thing to do; decorate for Christmas (I actually got a real tree yesterday,) buy gifts for everyone else, and so on.

    The loneliness I feel is one that only someone in our shoes can relate to. I just helped plan a benefit for a dear friend who has Leukemia. He lost his job due to being sick for just about a year. We raised close to $21,000. It was amazing to be able to help them. It was also very healing.

    I worked with at risk youth before I was forced to resign when my husband got sick. Our motto for this kids was “helping others helps yourself.” They would always ask how or why. Now I would know exactly what to say to them.

    This may not make any sense but trying to find a way to heal I thought was impossible. Yes, I grieve everyday. My heart is so heavy with my emotions that somedays it takes my breath away.

    Hold on to what the traditions the two of you wanted for Linen. It is harder than anything to put on a smile for my little boy, but I can’t forget the traditions because I am grieving.

    Take care and God bless.

  2. I’ve been where you are my friend. In the year 2000, after 6 1/2 years of a wonderful marriage, I lost my wife unexpectantly. In less than one week she went from being perfectly healthy to coding in the ER. I was with her when it happened. I think grief is an extremely personal experience for everyone, so I won’t begin to say I understand your pain, but if you ever want to talk, I’m happy to listen. I know of you and your family as I live in the Lexington area, and I’m a member of Lexington Baptist Church. I’ve prayed for you. When I was where you were, I couldn’t see how I’d get through even the next hour, but around 2 1/2 years after Cindy died, I married again around 5 years ago. It’s been an amazing journey. Hope to hear from you.

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