Bittersweet

His prickly chin and scruffy morning's laugh

bring Christmas to life,

animating the tree's lights with just his smile.

Torn paper and tangled ribbon

grow in piles of color

scattered by the cats.

We're foolish in our joy,

all together, happy here.

His robe is wrapped tightly, tied around the waist,

and just a hint of plaid flannel peeks

out from under the sleeves.

Father holds the key to Christmas and unlocks it with his love -

felt from a thousand miles away or from across the room.

The three wise men?

I have but one, and he holds me close

strong arms holding tight the bond.

Written Christmas morning, 2004

I awaken and it feels like Christmas, and I am amazed. An e-mail from my sister reminds me that I am well in my soul, in the places where the constants in my life live. I am well in body, thanks to the miracles of medicine. I am well in mind even when I am in this place of inconstancy. I am well in spirit because of my relationship with God. That will not change no matter what happens in life. Because I trust Him. That decision, for me, is made.

So good morning and Merry Christmas! A new day, a new reminder of my hope. I think I can find ways to miss Dad and be sad, but celebrate his memory too. So once again, I find myself in a place of gratitude.

A good place to be on Christmas morning.

Good night

Candles flickering, carols in the air, surrounded by friends in the half-light of Christmas Eve. "I am in the bosom of my family," I thought tonight as I worshiped the Newborn King, the Savior King, the Risen King, warm tears running down my cheeks.

Tough hours. I'm missing Dad so much thinking of our many wonderful Christmases. Stories we would tell around our family table. Memories we shared.

But tonight was calm and peaceful. Tim and I enjoyed it in our own special way, and were able to spread some love to a good friend who was in need of it.

I am going to bed feeling so loved by so many. It is an incredible gift that I hope I will never take for granted. Christmas Eve after an incredibly difficult year. And the year is almost over. A relief, to say the least.

I go to bed sad, but at peace, warm down to my toes, filled with love and a kind of deep, abiding joy.

Back to the yoyo

Was it just yesterday that I wrote I was feeling better than expected? That only lasted about 1/2 the day. I guess that's better than none, though. The afternoon and evening were pretty tough.

I won't detail the yucky stuff here. Suffice it to say I am not working to process my feelings. I need to do a little more of that and try to keep my sadness from turning to ugliness inside me - anger, irritability, etc. I also need to cut myself some slack and just get through this. Things will look a little better on the other side.

Not because anything will have fundamentally changed in me, but because the high expectations, the hoopla, and the demands of the holiday will be over. January will be quiet.

I am missing Dad terribly. Everywhere I go I see something that would make a perfect present for him, or I see parents and their children. Or I think of something I'd like to tell him.

And now having no parents makes me miss Mom again in a more poignant way. This parentlessness is a strange thing. Can't really explain it, but I feel unmoored, without an anchor, somehow floating.

So today I'm going to focus on doing the tasks that need done. Wrapping presents. Cooking for tomorrow. Making a few phone calls. I'll listen to music, watch a little TV, maybe journal some. Drink hot tea. A quiet day. Hopefully a restful day. Then tomorrow with my family. Sunday with Tim's family.

And I'll try to keep in the forefront of my mind why we're doing this, and how I can give back to those I love in ways other than their small gifts.

Better than I thought

December 23. Whew! Just 3 more days and my holiday season is past. It will be a relief.

I must say, though, that I am feeling less outright pain than I thought would be the case. Instead of the constant throbbing it was after Mom died, this pain comes and goes. Granted, in heavy waves that toss my little boat, but at least it's intermittent.

This loss of Dad feels so very different than losing Mom did. My age, his age, the duration of his illness, the stability of my marriage. I suppose all those things have combined to make this seem just a little bit easier.

And I am surrounded by the most incredible friends. I can't emphasize this enough. Don't get me wrong. My family is wonderful and I value them incredibly. But having this many friends who deeply care about me, nurture me, look out for me, listen to me, help me laugh, allow me to talk - I cannot adequately express my heartfelt thankfulness for them. As I told someone recently, "They are like a hammock in which I lie."

So today I'll finish up odds and ends, then there's a mad rush for 3 days, then it all settles back down, like a cloud of dust on a dirt road after the roaring pickup truck drives by.

So thankful for the Gift that is the motivation for all this hoopla. So thankful that I can express my gratitude all year long. Thankful for many things...

Almost there

Ladies' fondue Christmas party attended

Care package sent to my bro at Colorado State

Fudge and cookies made for friends and neighbors

Invitations to the church's interactive nativity handed out in the neighborhood

Shopping list made

Tree decorated

.......................................................................................

The trappings of Christmas surround me, and I find myself feeling just a tiny bit less sad then I thought I would. After all, I am surrounded by people who love me and are giving me unbelievable support. I am loved beyond words by my amazing husband. And the truth of Christmas, the reason for all this celebration is undiminished by losing Dad. That is wonderful and beautiful.

And all those things - the parties, shopping, baking, friends, the beautiful tree - they remind my heart of Dad's love.

I miss him. He loved Christmas. He gave all my Christmases a special touch.

But I can still find joy, and that in itself is a wonderful and beautiful thing.

Back home

Where have I been? Is it already December 13th? I have nothing profoud to say, but I'll write a little update anyway...

My week in Breckenridge ended with a bang as the car I had borrowed pooped out on me. Long story short - it all worked out, I didn't end up stranded somewhere on a mountain pass, and a ride home materialized in an amazing way! Other than the car operating perfectly, it couldn't have been any smoother, really.

I arrived home and dove back into life...perhaps a little deeper than was wise. Last week was crazy busy, but I'm going to try to scale back a little more, and not just for the next couple weeks. I'm still carrying a heavy emotional burden, and until that lifts, I need to create and maintain a little more space for feeling, writing, thinking, crying, etc.

Christmas is fast approaching, and I just wish the whole thing could be ignored this year, but there's not much chance of that. So instead of digging as deep into a hole as I can, I'm going to try to focus on the many good and wonderful things in my life. That way, while facing life, even with the hard stuff in plain view, I'll also have a clear view of all the good.

After all, I continue to contend that I live a blessed life with innumerable amazing and wonderful gifts. I'll try to keep that my focus.

Glich

I woke up this morning feeling much better -more myself. I was having a great morning when I suddenly felt like going home. The sky was blue and clear, tomorrow more snow is expected, and my inner old lady popped up and said, "Go home today and then you can just enjoy the drive instead of fighting snow." Sounded good to me! :-)

And I was surprised at myself. At the beginning of this retreat, I'd wondered if I'd ever want to go home. I guess one can get enough of solitude and reflection - wouldn't make a very good nun, huh? :-) I decided to pack up, have a leisurely lunch, then head on home.

I did, however, need to take my friend's car (which I borrowed for this trip) to a mechanic to get it topped up on coolant before heading back over the mountains. You see, a couple days ago I discovered a puddle of antifreeze under the car. Bad news.

I took the car to a mechanic who said they could fill me up before heading home. But there was worse news. The car has a cracked radiator.

Good news? I didn't discover this halfway over Hoosier Pass or in the middle of South Park. And, I still had one day on my condo, so I just checked back in. And I've already got a ride home from a friend who has been in Glenwood Springs visiting friends.

So, I got a few things out of the car (including pjs, dinner and breakfast stuff), the mechanic gave me a ride back to my condo, and here I am chilling for one more night.

I guess it wasn't time for me to go home, after all. And, actually, I'm thankful for one more night of solitude. The weird feeling is gone, my soul feels satisfied, and my weary heart is finally feeling rested after the crazy months since Dad came home and all that followed.

All good. (Except for my friend's car.)

Finishing up

I feel weird. I think it might be spending 6 days alone. I am, after all, an extrovert.

It might also be because I thought this would be a really emotional week and it hasn't been.

And it could be that I have worked on the tasks I assigned myself for this week, but I don't actually feel any different. Was I supposed to? I'm not really sure what I expected, since I've never done this before. I've sure enjoyed the time, but did I get out of it all I could have? I'm just not sure.

Anyway, I'm wrapping up my second to last day, and just thought I'd throw all that out there.

I did take the most beautiful walk today. Little, tiny snow flakes fell all day and it was absolutely gorgeous. I couldn't even see the top of the slopes, and I can only imagine that it was a pretty slow day for the lift operators.

The Blue River runs right through Breckenridge, and there's a lovely path that follows it through town. I had just heated up my lunch when I looked out my window and saw that the tiny flakes had turned to fat, feathery ones. "I have to be out there!" I said to myself, threw on my snow boots, etc. and practically ran out the door.

As I walked along the river, enjoying the falling snow, I listed things for which I'm thankful...

my parents
dog prints in the snow
good food and fun restaurants
a warm coat...

It was a pretty long list. And it was a lovely walk. I think I'll do it again tomorrow.

So I'm off to bed, feeling this weirdness. Not sure what it's about, but I hope it just means it's time to go home.