The Christmas List

One of the things I love to do is write.  Sometimes I write more eloquently than I speak.  Of course I do!  Writing allows us to review our thoughts before we finalize them.  If we all chewed on our words a little more before we spit them out, perhaps the world would be kinder after all.  But I digress....

I recently lost my father.  I know I'm not the only one that has lost a parent, but it feels like I'm the only one.  My dad and I were very close and I know there are many, many others who feel the same after suffering such an immense loss.  But I find myself in the odd position of not knowing how or when to express the loss that I feel.  Professionally, I spend my days supporting others.  Listening, lifting others up, instilling hope, tackling projects with passion because I so much want to help.  But for all the times I've known magically just what to say to someone who is struggling, I am lost as to how to communicate what I am thinking, feeling and needing.  I am hoping that through the gift of writing, I will find an outlet and maybe, just maybe, will help others along the way.

It's a tough time of the year for a lot of us.  It is harder for those trying to celebrate while grieving the loss of someone they loved so much.  The realness of my dad not being here hits me at the most odd of times.  I can be laughing one moment and crying in the very next breath.  I try to contain it, but I feel like in doing so, I am doing a disservice to my dad.  He is worthy, after all, of my public expression of how immense this loss is.  So why, then, do I try to contain it?  Probably for the benefit of others.  But in doing this, for the benefit of others, I really do nothing for the benefit of me.  If I preach anything to those I spend my days caring for, it is that you must take care of yourself.  You must do those things that nurture your spirit....there is nothing selfish in that.

I made my Christmas list a couple of weeks ago.  I do this every year - make a list of all the people I am going to buy gifts for and then list out what I have or what I am going to buy for them.  It helps me keep track.  In making my list, I automatically made an entry for "Dad."   The realness of that moment was too much for me.  Dad would not be here this year and there was no material thing I could purchase for him.  Yet I could not bring myself to remove him from the list, so there he stays.  Is this just a way of torturing myself?  I  have found it to be a healing gesture.  My dad's passing has brought me a new found understanding of the things that are important.  I no longer stress the deadlines and the pressure.  I realize that the world isn't going to fall apart if my to do list doesn't get entirely done every day.  I find myself more conscious of the beauty of the sun and the crispness in the air.   I appreciate more the gift of my parents and step parents.  I find that in communication with my son, I try to lecture less and reason more.  I am aware that I have had a privileged and blessed life and I thank God for that, out loud, every single day.  And I am aware that some days I won't be able to move off of the couch and I know that, too, is ok.  A gift to be embraced and every single emotion felt.  Those who grieve deeply have loved deeply.   There is no greater blessing in this life.  And so on my Christmas list my dad will remain.  And every day I will consciously do something that I think will make him proud.  And on Christmas Day I will make a charitable contribution in his honor.  And isn't it funny that for all the "things" I've purchased him through the years that he accepted graciously even though he didn't really need them, in his passing I will probably give him the gift he would be most proud of.  The understanding that in this life, we are blessed with the opportunity to live.  And it's how we spend the days, not how we reach the deadlines, that matter.

Let the blessings of the holiday season begin...