Journaling #1 - November 2019

A close friend sent me a handful of thought-provoking questions during the last few months of 2019.  The next few posts will include some of those questions and my responses.

What do you anticipate being the hardest this upcoming holiday season without Anna?  What are things you are doing to prepare?

What a great question!  Thank you, thank you, thank you!  I need to have ways to sort through these thoughts and figure out how to incorporate them into my life.  Maybe if I process some of the emotional parts, the physical parts will settle out, too.

As with so many parts of the last several years of my life, I think the hardest part this coming holiday season can be summed up with the challenge of balance.

Balancing the memories of Christmases past with the energy required to make new memories.

Finding the balance between traditions we want to continue and starting some new traditions.

Discovering how to celebrate the joy of the season while at the same time honoring Anna’s memory and place in our lives.

Figuring out how to give myself the time and space to experience the feelings that come while navigating the world outside (and inside) our family.

Every day in the coming few months is going to be bitter sweet.  We have so many reasons to smile and laugh, and yet even in those joyful moments, the absence of Anna is acutely felt.  A few friends at church who have experienced significant loss recognize the difficulty that comes with the merriment of the season, but often times our pain is not fully understood.

This past Sunday was a case in point … All Saints Day.  Our congregation makes a point during the service of commemorating those who have already entered their heavenly home, and our pastor weaves hope into his message.

But, it’s still hard.  Often the sermons wrestling with heaven are ones that are more difficult for me to hear because for us, it’s real.  We can put Anna into the lessons and descriptions; those visuals are emotionally powerful.

Sunday was also Kate’s celebration of her 1^st communion, which meant that we had extended family in town for the service followed by brunch at our home.  Part of our pastor’s message to these kids (intentionally and yet tactfully done) included the idea of “communing” with all saints past and present.  If we believe that our loved ones are with Jesus and we believe that Jesus is “in, with, and under” the bread and the wine, then it follows that we are also with our loved ones during the celebration of communion.  This concept was not novel to me on Sunday, but being reminded of it can make the navigation of my own emotions on otherwise full days tricky.

All this illustrates the difficulty of having lost a child while still having other children at home.  How can we help ensure their holiday season isn’t overshadowed by sadness?
 

We have a few plans in place already 😊

Since our family will be home alone for Thanksgiving, we are going to embrace that time.  Ethan’s birthday falls the day before Thanksgiving this year, so we have plans to celebrate his birthday on the Friday or Saturday of that extended weekend by going mini-golfing at a local facility that also has arcade games.  We’re also going to finalize Ethan’s gift, which is creating a workspace for him in our basement.  He needs a safe place to build with all of the random stuff he collects …

For holiday decorations this year, instead of having the kids decorate their own individual small trees, we are going to have two large trees for ornaments: one for the grown-ups and one for the collective kids.  Then we can all put Anna’s ornaments up on the tree together with those of Kate and Ethan.

I think we are also planning to back out of a few commitments we had done as a family in the last few years: bell-ringing for the Salvation Army as part of our 4H club and our church’s gingerbread decorating event.  Both of those we did with Anna and I’d rather not have too many unnecessary reminders of how things used to be this December.  Instead we’re going to go to a science night at Kate’s school and do gingerbread decorating in our home on our own time.

We have also toyed with the idea of going to the Kalahari the first weekend of the holiday break.  School gets out on the 20^th this year and I think it might be good to have some fun distractions on the anniversary of Anna’s illness/death.  Besides, Anna loved the Kalahari and this would be a great way to honor her memory as a family.  And, I really, really don’t want to be around a lot of people that weekend.  I’m sure some of our friends will make note of the dates and life is going to be hard enough for us without putting ourselves in the position to deal with others that weekend.

(Not everything worked out as I had imagined in early November, but I think we navigated the holiday season well enough.  A few notable differences were going to cut down a live Christmas tree for the adults' ornaments, and no Kalahari trip.  Instead, we adopted another kitten on December 21!)

Which brings me to a final challenge … dealing with the emotions and perceived expectations of others.  I sometimes worry that a friend/acquaintance will be overcome with sadness while talking with me.  Matt and I have talked about how our mere presence reminds others of Anna and her death.  We live with this reality every day and have plenty of time to process our thoughts and emotions, but Anna’s absence is not as “real” for others who live busy lives.  With our presence come those reminders which in turn can bring up their renewed sadness.

In addition, I know I shouldn’t, but I sometimes feel guilty when I’m out and about and in a good mood.  I wonder if others look at me and question how I can be so happy.  No one outside our home has seen the extent of our grief and, as private people, that’s how we want it to be.  And yet, sometimes I wonder if that desire for privacy comes across in different ways to different people.