Sugar, spice, snails, puppy dog tails

A season of sorrow

         I always anticipated and enjoyed Thanksgiving and Christmas as a child, teenager, and very young adult. A part of me still does, but since the Christmas season after my twenty-fifth birthday, the anticipation and enjoyment is tinged with dread, depression, and sorrow.

         I went into the hospital full of excitment. My fourth baby would be born shortly. What a wonderful Christmas present! However, when she arrived the night of December 19, she was so tiny, much too small. Although full term, she weighed only four pounds, fifteen ounces and was about fourteen inches long. As soon as the nurse announced the baby's size, I started weeping. I knew something was very wrong. A few hours later, less than a day, Reginia returned to her heavenly home, leaving broken hearts and wounded spirits. Over thirty years later, the sense of loss hasn't left, only become bearable.

         In 1987, my mother came to spend Christmas with my brother's family and with mine, planning on returning home Christmas afternoon. My father had to work Christmas night and couldn't come. Christmas Eve, an ice and snow storm smothered the state. Mother couldn't get home. That Christmas night, my father came home from work to an empty house and, sometime in the early morning hours, died alone.

         About three years later my grandmother died a few days after Christmas, my mother by her side.

         Six years ago tomorrow, November 23, I sat beside my mother as she closed her eyes, breathed slower and slower, and left this world. I had been with her almost non-stop since her stroke over two weeks previously, and I knew she wouldn't want to live with the devastation of her body caused by the stroke. She couldn't speak (but, oh, how her eyes could!). Her left side was paralyzed. The doctors said the damage was so great that she would never regain most of what had been lost. My heart cried, "But she's my mother!" I had to let her go, however.

         The day after Mother died, my ex-son-in-law took my grandchildren, Faris and Meena, for a 'visit.' We have not seen or heard from them since. We have no idea where they are. The blow of losing mother and grandchildren nearly brought me to my knees. My faith, sorely tested, nearly didn't survive.

         This Thanksgiving/Christmas season brings new sorrow, but at least this time, the loss will be temporal. My youngest child, Randy, will probably be leaving the state to find work to support his family. He discovered last week that the college/universities in the state will be laying off over half the teaching staff at each institution. He's in that half. We've become accustomed to seeing him, his wife, and their three boys quite regularly. We went to ballgames, school programs, special activities, and for frequent visits. Having them leave is a blow, especially to a woman who would love to have all her family no more than an hour's drive away.

         I still enjoy Christmas, but not as fully or with as much anticipation. The true meaning still gives my life meaning, a deep internal joy. The season, though, is now tinged with sorrow that lies across my days, thoughts, and heart like a drizzle on a dreary day.

         Still, I will smile and laugh and enjoy. I will wish everyone "Merry Christmas" and mean every word. I will not allow the sorrows and pains of life stop the pleasure and joy that God gives. I will treasure every moment I have with those I love.


Viv, the teacher


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