Another Christmas is passing. A third without Hubs. A third without Girly. A second without The Boy. “The holidays must be hard.” People say. The obligatory head tilt when someone realizes that I’m one of “them”. The widow.
I didn’t put up a tree. I didn’t hang twinkle-lights. I haven’t listened to Christmas stations. Bah-humbug I can hear you saying.
I’ve sat through the parties. I’ve watched your instagram pictures. I have seen your elf on the shelf. Is this my “new normal” that everyone talked about?
I have not shopped and I have tried to give away the wrapping paper I possess. Dave Ramsey would be proud.
I have received the invitations. The “where are you going for Christmas?” The emphasis on “you” being a little too strong. The emphasis that says, “I know that they are gone. Are you alone? Are you lonely?” I politely shrug my shoulders and say, “I don’t know.” and “Thank you.”
Another Christmas is passing. No, I don’t have Hubs. No, I don’t have Girly and The Boy. No, I don’t have a tree and I am not singing Jingle Bells.
Yes, I am celebrating Jesus’ birth.
The song that continues to resonate in my heart is not one of grief. It’s one of celebration and reverence for the significance of this holiday. The stuff… the loss… it’s there. However, it does not and will not eclipse the glory of the birth of a child who saved us all.
Happy Christmas everyone!