“What I love best about Christmas is how you made me love it again. I went from hating it, to it being my favorite. You did that. You and your mom. I didn’t think that was possible. You’re like f*ng Christmas elves. For f* sake, I’m wearing GD Christmas jammies and our house looks like the North Pole.
I love you for that.”
A Grief Recovery Project Post
If you’ve been following my adventures this summer, you know I worked diligently to reclaim the spaces and places that used to be WE and make them all about ME. I didn’t let mixed results stop me from forging onwards with this particular GRP.
Fast forward to the dreaded holiday season. I’m back in the US and ready to face this demon head on. After two years of not celebrating the holidays, this is my year. I figured if I don’t do it now, I’ll never celebrate them again. And I used to give Mrs. Claus a run for the money, so I’m putting my big girl Christmas panties on and doing it.
A Holiday Fuster Cluck
For new readers, it may help to understand why this time of year is so emotional and hard. It’s not just the festive cheer all around, which is brutal on the bereaved. For me, it’s also the cluster bomb of milestones: Dad’s deathiversary, my birthday, Thanksgiving, what would have been our wedding anniversary, Christmas and New Year’s. Yep. Welcome to my six weeks of WTF, which this year I will face head-on, mostly sober, and with Christmas jammies.
Not gonna lie, I’m a bit terrified about this holiday season, which has already gotten off to a pretty rough start. But if there were a blinged out Scout’s badge for grief preparedness, I’d have it. That’s right folks, I have a plan. I’ve got proactive appointments scheduled with my grief counselor, and lots of activities planned outside in the sunshine. Never underestimate the power of exercise and vitamin D to help you power through Christmas carols and tinsel and other Holly Jolly
I’ve also got the people I love most in the world watching my back. My knight-in-shining-armor will be by my side, holding my hand and sharing all the magic with me. He may only be two years old, but he’s been my bright light in the darkness from the minute he was born. I know, that’s a lot of pressure to put on a wee babe, but when I was at my lowest point, he was the reason I chose to stay. I couldn’t bear to be the cause of his mom having to someday explain why his Aunty Pirate bailed on this life.
But I digress. His joy about EVERYTHING is contagious. And I’m grateful to get to have this time with him. If anyone can help me rediscover the magic of Christmas, it’s him; my sweet prince who showers me with FaceTime kisses when I’m far away, and hangs on to my leg and says, “No, Aunty Lisa,” every time I have to leave.
Thanks, baby boy. Aunty Pirate loves you. Now, off to shop for Christmas jammies and whatever the hot gifts are for 2-year-old boys. Is it too soon to buy him a car?
The Wandering Widow
Live Now. Dream Big. Love Fierce.
For those of you who are new to this W life, it’s okay to opt out of the holidays and just take care of yourself. Be kind to yourself. And while it won’t feel like it, remember you aren’t alone on this grief journey. XO, L
I’ll be home for Christmas
You can plan on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree
Christmas Eve will find me
Where the lovelight gleams
I’ll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
Songwriters: Buck Ram / Kim Gannon / Walter Kent