The hustle and bustle of the Christmas season begins. Shopping carts and arms are full of purchases. At the beginning of the season there is a sense of joy: the miraculous part of Christmas when good humor prevails; and all are involved in the joyous preparation. We become “Santa” while planning the perfect Christmas celebration. We credit Santa with happy moods, family celebrations, and the perfect gift.
I played Santa once, just like they did. Today, there is something missing from the Santa scene … my son. Since our first Christmas without Chad, I have never been as excited about the holidays as before. There is a predominant sense of pain that hangs over the joy that others feel. Drown the consolation of music; take the fun out of tradition; and dulls many memories that once shone.
Grief and Ebenezer Scrooge are good bed partners. I soon realized the The center of our vacations are our loved ones. When one of them is missing, our vacations must change to accommodate a different life without them. Chad was the special item that put “thank you” on Thanksgiving, “happy” on birthday, and “happy” on Christmas.
Playing Santa to Chad was always a challenge. Although she never wanted any particular gifts, she was able to produce a 16-page list without much effort. And he smiled mischievously at his achievement. Whatever I ended up making or buying was a surprise! But more than the gifts were the good moments: The piñatas and the visits of Santa Claus as children; hidden gifts and other traditions as adults. Santa lived in our hearts from childhood to adulthood.
That first holiday after his death, my heart ached with every thought of celebration. I tried all the coping tips, but nothing seemed right. I even spoke with my family from the beginning about “changing our traditions”, doing things differently. I clearly remember sitting on the golf course in August with my sister asking for advice on how our family would cope. It’s no wonder that by the time the holidays rolled around my anxiety level had peaked. All I wanted to do was get it over with!
I wasn’t a very good Santa that year. I couldn’t have cared less if I had bought. It hurt to see the children. I could not find peace in religious celebrations. I cried through every ornament I hung from the tree. I left the Christmas Eve services because my heart ached and my eyes were red from crying. And, as much as I tried to do normal things for everyone else, I couldn’t find some peace for myself. I was a Santa with no reason to thank.
I was miserable by choice. I was mad at God for allowing my life to take such a big turn. I felt sorry for myself and wanted everyone to feel my pain. I can not deny it. It is easy to give thanks when life is splendid. But giving thanks when life faces dark moments is an invaluable message of confidence. To my surprise, the anticipation of my reaction to the first vacation without Chad was far greater than the actual excitement I felt. Maybe I cried myself. Perhaps he was numb to the festivities others enjoyed.
Even as the years have passed, for a brief period each year, the lingering pain of last Christmas knocks on my door reminding me of where I have been and where I am today. Today, with certainty, I can say, “facing the holidays is easier, but it is very different.” In the darkness of this journey through pain, there are some bright lights. The gifts I have received are not given by Santa Claus or bought in a store. Instead, they are blessings that I sometimes take for granted.
- I am blessed to know that my God is always with me. No matter what I felt or said in His presence, He understood. And even today, when I have memory lapses and feel sorry for myself, He is there for me. What a friend I have in Jesus!
- I am blessed that I was able to choose my attitude and my choices gave me new options. I still miss the things that I will never have, but I no longer consider them.
- I am fortunate to have family and friends who value my commitments and support me without a doubt. This adds value to what I do.
- I am blessed that God has given me the gift of writing and I have found a way to use this gift to ease the pain.
- I am blessed with a healthy mind, body, and spirit, even though I sometimes take them for granted.
- I am blessed with the gift of purpose every morning. I like the quote: “God put me on this earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I am so behind that I will never die!”
- I am blessed that my journey through pain has brought me comfort and peace in the presence of many new friends who share my path.
On that first Christmas after Chad died, I bought a figure of Santa Claus with his knees bent, his head bowed, and his arms crossed. It keeps reminding me of those early years of Christmas pain. Perhaps the craftsman’s interpretation was meant to capture the magic of Santa and the miracle of Christmas that ties two stories together to serve a higher purpose. Or maybe it was Santa Claus giving thanks after his arduous task of delivering packages. Or maybe it was just Santa giving thanks that the holidays finally ended this year!
Life is a gift. For my son, Chad, the gift of life was brief. But in the shortness of those 21 years, he lived and touched the lives of many. Most of all, he touched mine. His death revealed my weaknesses, but the spirit of his being has taken the music out of my soul. I remind myself that it’s okay to long for the past, but only momentarily. There is much to do in the present.
Our tree sparkles with ornaments that tell the stories of many beautiful Christmases past. Ornaments that remind me of relatives who have passed away. There are silent messages in sparkling angels; stars of hope and bells of joy. The shine that remains on my carpet long after the season reminds me that love shines forever in the soul. Our loved ones are not forgotten. They are remembered in the silent choruses of beautiful memories.
With all of this to be thankful for, even this Santa can give thanks!