Have you heard this question a lot lately? I have. Three years after losing Charlotte, I still feel like I don't quite handle the holidays well. Worse, I still don't know how to answer this question.
On the plus side, I am blessed with a great job and had two full weeks (three full weekends!) of vacation time. I completed a number of projects around the house and managed to work on some pending CJSTUF projects that had been on my to-do list for quite some time. I had some grown-up playdates (AKA lunch!) with friends. I was able to sleep in and managed to get in some pleasure reading as well. Who can complain?
On the other hand, I experienced the usual grief flare ups. It actually started early, thanks to the horrible events in Connecticut. Learning that any parent has lost their child, regardless of the cause, tends to open my heart up again. The ache returns. It was a rough week leading up to Christmas.
Then Christmas arrived. We were surrounded by family and good friends on Christmas day. I ate my fill and went to see Les Miserables on the big screen (two thumbs up). I didn't end up in a puddle of tears on the floor. At least not because of Charlotte (see previous note regarding Les Miz!). It was just that feeling that something was missing. Christmas without kids just takes on a different flavor altogether. There is something about the magic that children bring to the holiday.
I am also rather befuddled by the grief process at this point. I can never seem to figure out where the line is between a-ok and major depression (and all the shades of grief in between). There is a part of me that believes that any holiday from Charlotte's death forward will always be tinged with a degree of sadness. There is always something missing. I'm upright. I'm functional. I'm here to greet the world. It is still not ok. Most of the grieving parents I talk to understand where I am coming from. I wish I had a way to explain it to others.
Just when I thought I was ready to approach the New Year with a positive outlook, our good friend Thomas passed away suddenly. I am aching not just for my loss but for the many friends whose lives he touched so deeply and for his family. Roger and I only knew Thomas for a few short months, but he was the kind of person who instantly became your friend. It seemed that we had known one another for a long, long time.
Today we join our friends in a celebration of Thomas' life. I have one more weekend to rest and prepare for the week ahead. Monday marks another anniversary. I didn't make any resolutions for the coming year. Instead, I set my sights on slow and steady progress from where I find myself today: physically, mentally, and emotionally. Just a never-ending pursuit of balance.
On the plus side, I am blessed with a great job and had two full weeks (three full weekends!) of vacation time. I completed a number of projects around the house and managed to work on some pending CJSTUF projects that had been on my to-do list for quite some time. I had some grown-up playdates (AKA lunch!) with friends. I was able to sleep in and managed to get in some pleasure reading as well. Who can complain?
On the other hand, I experienced the usual grief flare ups. It actually started early, thanks to the horrible events in Connecticut. Learning that any parent has lost their child, regardless of the cause, tends to open my heart up again. The ache returns. It was a rough week leading up to Christmas.
Then Christmas arrived. We were surrounded by family and good friends on Christmas day. I ate my fill and went to see Les Miserables on the big screen (two thumbs up). I didn't end up in a puddle of tears on the floor. At least not because of Charlotte (see previous note regarding Les Miz!). It was just that feeling that something was missing. Christmas without kids just takes on a different flavor altogether. There is something about the magic that children bring to the holiday.
I am also rather befuddled by the grief process at this point. I can never seem to figure out where the line is between a-ok and major depression (and all the shades of grief in between). There is a part of me that believes that any holiday from Charlotte's death forward will always be tinged with a degree of sadness. There is always something missing. I'm upright. I'm functional. I'm here to greet the world. It is still not ok. Most of the grieving parents I talk to understand where I am coming from. I wish I had a way to explain it to others.
Just when I thought I was ready to approach the New Year with a positive outlook, our good friend Thomas passed away suddenly. I am aching not just for my loss but for the many friends whose lives he touched so deeply and for his family. Roger and I only knew Thomas for a few short months, but he was the kind of person who instantly became your friend. It seemed that we had known one another for a long, long time.
Today we join our friends in a celebration of Thomas' life. I have one more weekend to rest and prepare for the week ahead. Monday marks another anniversary. I didn't make any resolutions for the coming year. Instead, I set my sights on slow and steady progress from where I find myself today: physically, mentally, and emotionally. Just a never-ending pursuit of balance.