If You're Happy and You Know It...

The other day my wife asked me what I wanted for Christmas. Over the last ten years my answer has been the same; What I truly want I cannot have. I wanted more time with my daughter. Another day with my wife of 26 years. Another chance to see the things I took for granted. A chance to see the things I would never experience.

Christmas without people in your life that were responsible for shaping you into the person you are today can be tough. I have two very close friends who are learning what it is like to not be able to call home and wish Mom a happy birthday. Or Merry Christmas. Or just to say I love you. They, like me, are having to unwrap presents that contain a little bit of sadness during the holidays.

But for me, that has become the ghost of Christmas past. 2016 was an incredible year for me. One of utter joy - and not just because the Cubs won the World Series! This year there is a little more joy in shopping. This year I don’t have to leave my shopping cart in the middle of the aisle and go somewhere to compose myself. This year I don’t have to force myself to stop when the gift tags say “from Uncle Kevin” only. This year God has blessed me with an incredible gift. This year I get to wrap and unwrap joy!

Perhaps this is a year of sadness for you. Maybe this year it is hard to focus on the good that seems so small in comparison to the bad. And maybe you are facing the holidays with dread rather than joyous anticipation. Well I’m here to tell you to STOP. But hear me out. Stop worrying that you are ruining Christmas for everyone else. Stop thinking it is wrong to mourn your losses during a joyous season. Just be where you are in your journey down your personal road of grief. It’s perfectly okay to miss a loved one. And you can still find joy in the season.

So, what do I really want for Christmas? What do you get a man who now has everything he could ever want? God has blessed me again with an incredible woman and two equally awesome girls that I fell in love with almost as quickly as I did their mother. He has given me a chance to not take things for granted as I live my life with these ladies. I will get to see weddings, graduations, babies being born and other wonderful miracles that I thought I would never get the chance to witness. He has definitely treated me, over my entire lifetime, better than I deserve to be treated.

As I review the blog posts I have made over these last several years I have seen the same theme you have. I have cooked up a dish of grief and sadness. Left alone it is a bitter dish. So I have seasoned it with occasional laughter. I’ve stirred in rare bits of happiness to add just a little taste. Sprinkled it with my love for the Father. Set the oven on high heat and let it cook for as long as God has wanted. But what has been pulled from the oven is something I hope you found pleasing to your palate. 

It has been a journey of a thousand miles but God has managed to get me there in as few steps as possible. While in future blogs I hope you will realize that I will never forget those who were a part of my journey, but my focus will always be where God wants to take me. And I couldn’t be more thrilled with who He has along for the ride!

My prayer for you, dear reader and friend, is that God will bless you with the joy He has given me in 2016. I pray that He overflows your cup with goodness and mercy. I pray that the memories you have will be memories you will pass on to your children and their children. I pray peace over you and I pray that God gives you a smile at least half as big as the one He has placed on my face.

I've never been more homesick than now

I would be lying if I said the holidays were not tough on one who is missing a spouse. I find it doubly so (I believe) when the spouse's birthday is the same week as Christmas. This past week, whenever I let myself get beyond the present and dwell in the past or future, the waves would crush me. Just today I sat having lunch alone and found myself asking God to bless OUR food when it suddenly hit me that I should only be asking Him to bless MY food. Peanut butter sticks bad enough in the throat as it is. When it has to work its way past the knot and the sob it takes some effort to swallow. 

I chose to do some shopping for my nephew and nieces on my wife's side. I truly love those children and I am so happy that they continue to keep me as part of that family even without the blood ties. But shopping without my wife along was like breaking in a new pair of shoes.  I liked what I was doing but it just didn't feel comfortable. I found a lovely friend to walk along with me so the pain wasn't as great as it could've been. Which was good because, without a friend along, Angry Me would have gotten some serious bah humbug stares from my fellow Toys R Us shoppers. 

After dinner and a basketball game (watching of course, not playing, because I would have to ask Santa for Icy Hot if I had played) I found myself at home alone again. I did what I usually do when home alone and decided to be with my Facebook family. I saw a beautiful picture taken by a friend ( and very gifted writer) of a couple who had been married 47 years. The wife claimed that home was wherever her husband was. What a wonderful sentiment and I am truly happy for them. But that quote made me realize how Job-like my trials have been. I've lost a child. I've lost a spouse. And, tonight I realized, I am homeless. Not a sleep on the street in a cardboard box or in the woods under a makeshift tent with a tattered blanket shivering against the cold. No, I am homeless because those who made me feel at home are gone. 

I live in a nice house. I have plenty of creature comforts. I sit on a comfortable couch and type this using my iPad mini. A fire in the gas fireplace keeps the room warm. The air conditioning unit keeps the temperature throughout the house moderate. When I finish writing I'll take a nice warm shower and climb in a bed that I can adjust to just the right firmness. I have food in my pantry, money in my wallet, a nice Riesling in the fine crystal glass beside me. I should be a very content man. But of course I am not. I would gladly trade it all for life as it once was. I would struggle to make ends meet and do without so my child had plenty. I would drive a beat-up old car and add oil to it every week just to keep it running. I would throw an extra threadbare blanket on the bed and snuggle with my wife to stay warm. I would mow my own yard and clean my own house and not think twice about it if I could have the loves of my life back. But this is a Christmas wish that Santa cannot deliver. No matter how carefully I hang the stockings by the fireplace or how snug I would be in my bed, the only hope I have is to have visions of my own sugarplum fairies dancing in my head. 

I am homeless. And, as Mercy Me sings, I've never been more homesick than now. 

Butterfly kisses for Christmas

Christmas came early this year for some of my nieces and nephews. Due to their father's work schedule and a variety of upcoming Christmas programs and parties it was deemed necessary to have a little bit of the Christmas celebration earlier than I can ever remember having it before - regardless of how much I wanted to open my presents early as a child. And so, the first of the firsts began today. 

Every year for the last seven I have missed my daughter at our Christmas gatherings whether at my family's or her mother's family's. I was so proud watching her show her appreciation and how she matured as she got older. She had just reached that age where she enjoyed watching other people open their gifts as much, if not more than, opening her own. She wanted to see the joy in other's faces. And I can vividly remember her last Christmas both at home and at my parent's house. 

This year her absence was felt more than it has in a few years. This time her mom wasn't around to watch the cousins open their presents. And this time I wanted to make it a special Christmas. So each child was given a few things that belonged to my daughter. My nephew, quite the bibliophile himself, was given five books in a series of books that my daughter enjoyed. That and a frisbee she threw like a girl. Before I left the festivities I took him out back and we threw the frisbee back and forth (and into a number of objects) for a while. I would say that it reminded me of throwing the frisbee with my child but my nephew could throw whereas my kid... Well, she was a great singer. 

The oldest niece received a devotional that my daughter read through when she was close to the same age. It gives her something to read and discuss with her parents every day for a year. I also included a couple of fiction books geared for a pre-teen girl. But the most prized possession would have to be the scarf that her cousin knit herself. For the last seven years that scarf has been draped across a bench at the foot of our bed. The scarf had grand designs of being a blanket one day but my daughter never got the chance to finish it. Perhaps my niece will use it as a scarf for awhile and then, once she becomes proficient at knitting, she can continue the blanket project. 

The next niece, the one I remember feeding a bottle at our child's last Christmas was next. For quite some time now her Gran has called her "dolphin eyes" because of her big beautiful brown eyes. So she was given a dolphin mini statue that was cut from a beautiful stone. She was also given a travel tic-tac-toe game that uses Velcroed dolphins and whales rather than X's and O's. And lastly she received a orca beanie baby that was the closest thing I could find to a dolphin amongst the dozens of stuffed animals we still have. 

The youngest niece on my side of the family was given the biggest gift. My daughter had a pair of butterfly wings as part of a costume. She loved butterflies. So my youngest niece is now the proud wearer of butterfly wings. Also included in the bag of gifts (I'm a guy and we don't wrap) was a stuffed dog that was so soft and just seemed to call out to be adopted by another little girl. 

Not having my daughter there with me was emotional draining. Not having my wife with me opened the taps all the way. We did end the evening on a fun note with a gift for my mother she never saw coming that had us all laughing. But when the wrapping paper was all picked up and cake and ice cream was served I began to work my way toward the door (unfortunately leaving behind the wonderful hand-made gift from my nieces). It was time for me to go home and be alone. The first of my first Christmas days was over. They never are as hard as you expect them to be, but they don't make the next ones any easier. 

Christmas comes but once a year

Earlier today I began to think about all of the Christmas decorations I've seen in the neighborhoods and posted on Facebook. I recalled how, as a child, I loved to make the trip around the corner at my grandparents house to see what their neighbor had added to his house in the way of Christmas decorations for that year. It was the highlight of the trips to Virginia. I also began to actually think about Christmas this year for me. And that made what had been a good day a little less so. The way to get through the first year of grief - as well as subsequent years, is to focus on the moment and not on the future. Because the future is too darn big and too darn scary to face. 

Seven years ago my wife and I made the decision not to put up a Christmas tree in the house. We still put a small amount of decorations outside but nothing like we once did when our daughter was still with us. It no longer felt like Christmas. There was no longer a pile of blankets at the foot of our bed where our daughter would spend every Christmas Eve. There was no real reason to celebrate at our home. We still celebrated with the family as we watched the nephews and nieces tear into their packages while still at the age where quantity was better than quality. But for the last five years we found ourselves cruising the Caribbean on Christmas Day where it felt a little less like Christmas and where we did not expect to see our daughter at every turn. As it is I can still recall the first Christmas at sea and the poem I wrote about it. 

Christmas Without You

Another Christmas passed without you in it

Your mother and I tried to escape

As we loaded up the car, you weren't there

As we traveled down the road, you weren't there

As we looked out over the ocean, you weren't there

As we walked along the beach, you weren't there

You were so missed

Then I felt it...

In the laughter around the pool, I heard you there

In the smile of a toddler, I glimpsed you there

In the eyes of your mother, I saw you there

In our hearts, I felt you there

You were not there to great us when we returned

How could you be?

You were with us all along

As I began to reflect on my first Christmas without both my wife and daughter I thought that perhaps it was time to add decorations to my living room. Something to mark the season other than the cinnamon candle I found and lit. I could string garland along the fireplace mantle and place candles and bows in the windows. I could put great big Christmas balls on the front porch and put greenery around the columns. I could make the house look and smell like Christmas. Perhaps that would lighten my mood. 

Yes, I could do all of that and was seriously considering it until I rounded the corner tonight and saw a neighbor with a beautiful Christmas tree in their window. It was wonderfully lit and made me think it was time to bring mine down from the attic after 7 years of hibernation. But then I realized something. I would have nothing under the tree. No presents. No one to buy presents for and leave under the tree until Christmas morning where we could waken and rush to open them. This year I don't have to worry about whether or not I got my wife the perfect gift. I don't have to hear her gripe at me for getting her something when we agreed not to do so. I don't have to see her pull out the gift she had gotten me that also broke the agreement. 

No, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus in my house this year. And I'm not sure how I'm going to handle it. Dad always told us as kids that Santa didn't want milk and cookies. Santa wanted beer and pretzels. It will be difficult not to join Santa in his diet this year. But that's not who I am and not how I'll deal with it. 

So, do you want to know what I want for Christmas (aside from the obvious that I can't have)? I want to pretend that December 25th is just another day off. I'm not even sure where I'm going to do my pretending. But regardless of where, please know that I will be wishing you the merriest of Christmases possible.  And don't worry, the spirit of Christmas will still live in my heart - just like it does all year round. Because if you treat every day as Christmas, then it makes the actual day a little less painful. At least that's what I'm hoping. 

Bbbbbbird, bird, bird. Bird is the word.

I'm thankful for my family and my friends. I cannot count the number of people who have invited me to spend Thanksgiving Day with them. And each one of you are such a blessing to me even as I turned your invitation down. There are just too many good memories to be shared around your Thanksgiving dinner table. Memories to share of holidays past. Great memories. And you don't need me there to spoil that.  You will probably make even more memories as you look at the spread before you and wonder how you will ever eat all of it. And you won't. Many of you come to the meal with containers empty and ready to take leftovers home with you. You'll laugh and eat until you are about to burst. The men will all unbuckle their pants to allow a little more breathing room and retire either to the living room to watch football or to the fields for hunting. 

This Thanksgiving I will not be making wonderful memories over a freshly carved turkey. I will not have to turn down someone's offer of a spoonful of dressing or cranberry sauce. I will not smell the apple pie baking or drink my weight in sweet tea. I have chosen to be alone. 

Please don't worry about me. I will be fine. I will treat it as I would any other off day. I will sleep in. I'll probably work in the yard. I will sit on the couch and watch some football. I do have some deli sliced turkey in the fridge so I will probably have a turkey sandwich to remain true to tradition. I will probably fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon and blame tryptophan. And I'll probably dream of John Madden trying to say tryptophan. I love Jesus, but I do drink a little. But not to forget. I can never forget and will never try to drown sorrows that way. Instead I will raise a silent toast to those no longer with me. 

The family I no longer have with me physically will look at me behind wooden and plastic frames scattered around the house and wonder why I am still there. I am still there because they are still there. Their very essence permeates the rooms. It is here that I feel closest to my wife and daughter. It is here that I feel I need to be. It is here that most of my memories can come flooding back. 

Don't weep for me. Don't worry about me. I'm learning to be alone and this is my first major test. I have friends coming in the evening so I will not be alone the entire day. I'm even trying my hand at cooking... well, at preparing snacks. I think my first solo run at the homemade cheese ball is a success. I've even bought stuff to fix a real breakfast in the morning. 

Getting through the last several holidays without my little girl has been tough. But together Wanda and I made it. Getting through the holidays without either of them will be a greater challenge. How I handle this day will determine my approach to both Wanda's birthday and then Christmas. Personally I think it will all hinge on the cheese ball. 

Tradition. Tradition!

I love this time of year. From mid-December to mid-January life is full of many family traditions. Some of them have been passed down from one generation to the next for hundreds of years. Some of them are only just beginning. But just what is it that defines a tradition? Can a tradition pick up after being ignored for a year or two? What does it take to start a tradition? A couple of years ago my wife and I started a new tradition by taking my sister’s children shopping for their Christmas gifts. They get to spend a day with their Aunt and Uncle and we get to spend it with them. They start their day with a snack, followed by intense shopping, and then ending with dinner wherever they would like to go eat. They learn about budgeting and about prioritizing, and about the wonders of a peppermint chocolate-chip milkshake from Chick-fil-A. Most importantly, we get to spend time with our nephew and nieces. We get the better end of the deal! Christmas Eve, while my daughter was with us, ended with a reading of the scripture of the birth of Christ in Luke, Chapter 2. She would sleep at the foot of our bed and, unlike most children, we would have to wake her up Christmas morning to open presents. Since she gets to sit at the feet of the one we once read about, I think she has the greatest Christmas day of all now. Not so much for her mother and I. That’s why we have looked for new traditions. We have cruised, gone to a beachside condo, and worked on Christmas day in an effort to focus more on what we have than on what we don’t have. However, we still live with the memories of past traditions. This year, so close to Christmas, the families in Connecticut will have to begin new traditions. I wish them peace. While some new traditions carry a somber feel with them, I still remember other traditions. For example, I remember leaving raisins for Santa’s reindeer when we left Santa his snack before we went to bed. I have to apologize now for any child who may not have gotten what you asked Santa for in the 1970’s. It seems we were about the only family who were told to leave beer and pretzels for Santa, so anyone who got their delivery after us… Well, I hope this explains some things for you. New Year’s traditions usually centered on football and parades for us. It wouldn’t be New Year’s if I didn’t get to see the Rose Bowl Parade. This year it takes on a new significance as we have friends whose daughter will be remembered in a pictograph made of roses on the float honoring organ and tissue donors. We are also honored that our daughter will be remembered by a rose with her name used in the making of the float. So, what are your traditions? Don’t have any memorable ones? It’s never too late to start. Just don’t use the beer and pretzels tradition. Santa already has to check his list twice. We don’t want to add to the confusion!