Christmas Day 2017

There are at least a ½ dozen squirrels playing leap frog and chasing each other all over the backyard, leaving trails in the snow. The cardinals, in pairs, are feeding at the bird feeder as if it were their last meal. Steam is rising from the heated water bowl. 

It's Christmas morning – and the world outside my window is as it should be – quiet, sunny, snow covered as if  powdered sugar exploded all over everything.

By this time of the morning there should be open boxes with gifts spilling out of them, piles of torn wrapping paper everywhere – ribbons and bows a jumble on the floor – a merry mess – coffee cake crumbs littering the table next to the half drunk cups of coffee, the egg bake already in the oven.  And the pups sprawled out on top of this glorious disarray.

But not today -  it is not as it should be. Six plus months and I still have a hard time believing that he is gone forever… 

The tears have a mind of their own - they come and go as they will – there is no stopping them.  The sorrow is so deep – sadness is a permanent part of me – and I suspect will remain deep in my soul til I breathe my last.

In all fairness, though, I have been comforted by the most unlikely people – friends of friends, my new church family, friends old and new.  And I am grateful. It helps, but doesn’t erase the grief. Nothing can. Not today. Probably not ever.

Somehow I thought that I would be able to sail through Christmas without a second thought, or at least with minimal angst.  Wrong.

Glenn loved Christmas. He was the one that always put up the outside lights and decorations -  Santa snuggling the angel.  He was the one that always put the lights on the tree that we would cut down together.  He would always help with the gift buying and even the wrapping. He was the one that got the Christmas cards addressed and signed.

He was the one who would always wrap 2 lumps of coal for me to exchange for a thoughtful gift.  He was good at picking out gifts that he knew I would like ( well, most of the time!) He was the one who would put an orange and nuts in my stocking because that’s what my mother used to do.

Its not fair – not fair that the stockings hanging on the mantle will not be filled – well, except for Hunter’s… there is no one to fill mine with coal, oranges and nuts.  No need to fill his and Vespa and Rocky won’t need any more chew toys either.

It’s not fair that the cards I receive now are addressed only to me. The ones I give, signed with one name….

It’s not fair that it’s so quiet I can almost hear the ghostly footsteps of dogs and spouse no longer here……

But grief and sadness do not know of fairness – I know that, but still…………I know I’m not alone in this – but still…………it’s not fair.

In fact, it’s got wrong written all over it………..

But I will spend time with family today – sharing laughter and maybe tears - a meal together. A communion of sorts…and we will remember those who are no longer with us ....and they are legion…..

Is this how Mary felt on the 1st anniversary of her son’s birth after his death?

I imagine she did.

Dignity................

Today we would have been married 471 months – but we will not celebrate this achievement.  Glenn died on June 12, 2017 – 6 months and 4 days ago. Less than a  month after his 66th birthday.

Glenn died – I did not ‘lose’ him.

I’ve ranted about this before, but it seems that the further I travel on this journey of mourning, the more intolerant I am of not speaking the truth or hearing it.

Every time I hear, or read posts, or commentaries on grief, regardless of where they are, or who wrote them, stating that the loved one is ‘lost’, I get flippin’ mad. It’s like nails on a chalkboard.

‘Why?’ you might ask.  So let me explain. Before I begin, the disclaimer is this – if this offends you, don’t read any further.

 To talk about the death of a loved one as something we have ‘lost’ does death a disservice. That’s one. Second, our deceased loved one is not an object that one can ‘lose’, like as library book, or a set of keys.

And third, we are not being honest with our language, nor are we respecting the dignity of death.

Allow me to explain.

When we (that’s all of us) claim that a loved one is lost it implies two things – first, that somehow, we are responsible for the loss.  If we lose our keys, it is through our own carelessness.  We set them down and didn’t pay attention to where we put them – That’s on us… My bad as we used to say.

So to say that ‘I have lost my husband…’ somehow implies that I was responsible for the loss.  And that is absurd.  I am not responsible for his death.  I did not cause it, it is not my fault. Bad things happen to good people – shit happens.

And second, this terminology objectifies our deceased loved one.  He or She becomes an object, a thing.  And you and I know that our loved ones are not things, they were people with whom we shared our lives.  Our loved ones are not objects. They were living, breathing human beings. And as such deserve our respect.

And third. I feel strongly, that as a society, and even as a church, we do not honor dying and death with the dignity that it deserves. We do not do a good job of talking about it before it happens. We do not, as a whole, plan well. We do not prepare others or ourselves for the inevitability of death. We don’t have the ‘what if’ conversations. ( we did have these conversations, and often). We don’t allow ourselves to recognize our own mortality. We keep a stiff upper lip and pretend that we are strong when we are not. And so when it happens, we use all of the euphemisms that we can conjure up to avoid the pain of talking about it and dealing with it head on.  We blindly assume that we are immortal – or 'I’ll get to it later'….'or I don’t want to upset ……………….(fill in the blank) by talking about dying…

We are not honest with our language – we are not honest about expressing our feelings… “ I’m fine , thank you very much…’, even when we are not. Not only is this unhealthy from a psychological perspective, it is also unhealthy from a spiritual perspective.

Have we suffered a loss? Yes – the loss of a relationship that was meaningful and important – but we have not  ‘lost’ our loved one. At least in the Christian faith, we should know where they are anyway – with God eternal, however you want to define that.

If we, as Christians, believe that God is with us no matter what our journey, if this God is a comfort and a strength, full of mercy and grace, why are we afraid to talk about dying and death?  It is inevitable – no one gets out of this life alive.

And so, to treat our loved ones as inanimate objects, to presume responsibility for their death, to not honor the dignity of death, to not be truthful with our language, is on a fundamental level, disrespecting life as well.

This journey of grief and mourning is the hardest thing I have ever done. But I will not demean or disrespect my husband’s life, or anyone else’s, by disrespecting their death.

And so I will call out (with love, of course!) anyone who uses language that I feel is dishonest. I will do what I can.  And yet having said all of this, I know that most people are trying to be a comfort - they are not trying to be disrespectful  - they just don't know what else to say. All the more reason to have these conversations.

Glenn’s life – and the lives of your loved ones - deserves no less.