I’ve spent Christmas with grief this year. Even though I’ve shared happy posts on my socials of tropical places. Grief has walked alongside me, quietly in the shadows of every smile and every laugh. The season has been different, something I almost don’t even recognize. In all of its holy reverence, I’ve held on to the hope that Jesus came to give. Yet, I’ve still spent Christmas with grief.
For the two do not have to be exclusive, they can walk together. And, this year, there have been a lot of emotions. I thought if I could push through the holidays without focus on the actual dates of the month, I could skirt around grief. Yet, she walks alongside me.
People can’t tell me how to grieve. They can’t walk this path for me. I have to be strong and grateful for the resilience that my mother instilled within me. Even when it feels like the holidays now have a shattered stained glass window around them. Nothing is the same, nor will it ever be. But, that is the beauty and the pain of life. New memories form to blend in with the old. Joy comes in small bits until the shattered glass is a mosaic of the memories we cherish.
As a child, we usually spent Christmas Day traveling to Tampa to see my Uncle James. It wasn’t until I was older that traveling on a holiday felt weird and out of place. But, what made it that way? My rigidity to accepting new traditions? Being set in my ways and just wanting to keep doing the same because that’s what felt like Christmas? Maybe all of the above. But the thing about life is that it is always in motion. Just like the ship I am on glides across the ocean a hundred times, but it’s never really the same ocean.
I made the decision to go on a cruise for Christmas around Mama’s birthday. If celebrating her birthday was that hard without her, I couldn’t imagine Christmas. She was the one who brought love to the holiday. She never failed to show those she loved just how much she loved them. It wasn’t always with gifts but the little ways she just made things better. She would bring a bouquet of Christmas flowers for the table, or she would bring her special candy treats. Mama always made the holiday such a memorable one for me. Her giving heart gave me a giving heart. Being home without her felt too heavy a burden to bear.
Instead, I’ve walked the streets of Puerto Rico and I’ve admired the beauty of St. Thomas, her favorite island. I returned to Nassau, another favorite of hers, and toured the city. Being close to someone you love doesn’t always mean you’re right beside them. You can be close to someone by looking at the same space they loved, watching the same sunset as it dips beyond the horizon, or eating the same food they loved. Closeness doesn’t always translate into being present with them.
Mama and I loved to travel. That’s why Daddy called us the Gypsies. He never knew where we would take off and go. In his gentle spirit, he never questioned where or what time we would get back. He knew the answer would be ambiguous. Sometimes even we didn’t know. As the boys got older, we would take off during their breaks from school and just start driving. Sometimes we would have a general plan and sometimes we wouldn’t. Those are core memories for my kids now and I pray one day they will repeat it for their kids. The spontaneity of our trips kept us from getting too stuck in our ways. Yet, somehow, I held on to traditions and the things most comfortable.
Life cannot be lived in reverse. We can’t look back and wish that we had done this or gone there. We can’t wait for a day when there’s more money or better circumstances. There will always be a reason not to, but the best advice I can share is that we can always make more money but time is a commodity that can’t be bought. Take the trip. Buy the ticket. Go on the hike. If you’re sharing Christmas with grief this year, you know how fragile life is and how things can change in an instant. For me, my mama went under hospice care on a Saturday and died on Monday. I didn’t think it would be that fast but her poor body was tired. Yet, my heart was selfish. I wanted more time, more trips, more adventures.
It wasn’t meant to be. I had to learn to navigate my world without my Mama. So I did the only thing that I knew she would do…I traveled. And grief….grief came with me.
Messpot Diaries 