It's a question I hear every year. And I am not sure my answer is satisfactory, at least to me. But I say it anyway.
"Are you ready for Christmas?" .... I think people mean, "Have
you gotten your Christmas shopping / baking / decorating done?" To that
intention, I usually answer, "Almost," and I would be telling the
truth.
But part of me is never ready for Christmas. The part of me that
remembers that it was Arielle's favourite holiday, the part that
remembers how she'd fill her mouth to the bursting point with Christmas
dinner and then try to talk (as a joke), the part that misses her and
her quirks. That part of me is never ready.
Summer 2011 - all of the family
All the preparation I do for the holiday seems bittersweet. It's not
as bitter as it was when the loss was fresh, I'll admit that. But there
is a certain wistfulness about it for me. I wish she could enjoy it with
us, or that I could be aware of her enjoyment. For all I know, she IS
with us every Christmas dinner - it happened once that I was aware of it
- that first Christmas. That was SO special. I hug that memory to my
heart often.
But people don't need me to bleed on them when they ask something
that for them, is more like a "hello, how are ya?" kind of thing. So I
say, "Almost," to their query about my 'readiness' for Christmas, and
they can go on their merry way. Only those who know me best understand
what my response means. I guess that means I have grown as a person ...
the "old Judy" would have made them feel uncomfortable by being brutally
honest and ruining an otherwise great day for them. I'm not like that
anymore. People have a right to feel happy (or whatever they feel) even
if I can't quite attain that level of joy myself. And here I go
comparing happiness and joy - two totally different experiences.
Happiness is usually (for me) dependent on circumstances, and joy speaks
more of an inner peace in spite of circumstances.
And yes, I have joy. I can honestly say that as deep as the loss of
losing Arielle is, it would have been a deeper loss never to have known
her, never to have borne her. There was a time I couldn't get there because the loss hurt so much, but
now - I think - I can honestly say that our lives are richer for having
had her in them, even if her presence is only a memory now. And I do have the
sure hope that one day, I will see her again - without the faults that made
life with her less than perfect, that made us - and her - so frustrated. I look forward to building an eternity of experiences with that girl: the one we couldn't (and can't) help but love. Do I miss her? OH yes. Every day! And grief's shape has changed over the years to make space for me / us to honour her memory in little ways that would only matter to us.
So am I ready for Christmas?
Ummm, almost. :)
