December 18th again? Already???

CW for death of loved ones and the stress of grief at the holiday season.

Storytime! I’ll try not to make this unreadably long. (Cue Morgan Freeman voice: “she did not, in fact, not make this unreadably long”)

This is one of the two photos I have of Tim and my father (the other is a picture of Tim and I sitting on the couch with my dad and Barbara. Barbara died three months after Tim did, in 2022). Tim and I started dating about a week before my dad was diagnosed with inoperable cancer… this picture is about two weeks after dad’s diagnosis, four weeks before he died. We went out to Payne’s Prairie, a wide spot of flat dry ground off 441 where people would pull off to watch shuttle launches. I had no idea Tim and I were standing in almost the same position until I saw the photo weeks later – mostly I just didn’t want to be there, didn’t want any of this to be happening, didn’t want my dad to be leaving this party we call life, didn’t understand any of the whirlwind that was becoming my life.

Anyway.

Today. December 18th. I used to love December 18th. It was my dad’s birthday, and just like he loved to make a big deal about my birthday (his greatest joy was being a father, and I’m not just saying that because I’m his only child), I loved to make a big deal about his birthday. Being born so close to Christmas, he would often get birthday presents wrapped in Christmas paper, or one big gift on about the 21st with the line that “here, I got you this for both your birthday and Christmas.” So I liked to make his birthday special.

My dad went into the hospital on his birthday. Then he died two weeks later. I had almost a full year before his birthday rolled around again, and of course I was a little sad when it came. After my dad died I was always a little sad on December 18th. The first 30 years of my life, there was the triple-holiday of my dad’s birthday, then exactly one week later there was Christmas, then exactly one week later there was New Years. And when I was still young, a lot of that was spent not being in school at the same time – doubly fun! It was fun celebration after fun celebration, and all of a sudden one third of that celebration was carved out of my life and the jagged edges of the hole it left behind took a lot of navigation to learn to deal with. How was I supposed to be excited about the long holiday if the first third of it wasn’t, anymore?

The only December 18th since 2002 I haven’t been a little sad was December 18th, 2021, the day Tim walked into the room I was having coffee and trying to make friends with my new feral I’d taken in (Tulip). Tim was unable to talk and was flapping his suddenly useless arm. That day adrenaline pushed everything else – including my dad – out of my mind as I was suddenly aware my husband was having a stroke and I had to get him to the hospital as quickly as possible (it was 20 minutes to the nearest ER, or, I could call an ambulance that would take 20 minutes to get to me. If you’re new around here you can read a lot more of those 100 days here.). They let him out three days later, and three days after that he had a much worse, massive stroke. That lead to 100 days in the hospital, ending in his death, but that’s a whole ‘nuther story. Like I said, you can read more about it at that link.

Now…? Now December 18th is just another day where I’m behind on getting ready for the holidays. I don’t want to make a big deal out of missing my father, or reliving those first days of Tim’s illness. I don’t even want to really think about grief, to be honest.  Mostly I just kind of want to make some good art today, maybe slog through some emails, work on my website a little, and have dinner with friends at a favorite restaurant that’s unexpectedly closing next week. I want to act like, and be treated like, nothing is different about today. I don’t want anyone to make a big deal out of anything. (And yet I’m writing this post? I KNOW. Brains are weird.)

December 18th. One week until Christmas, two weeks until New Year’s. We are told this is the happiest time of year, right? Presents! Snow! Family! Children laughing and carolers singing! Good food, spicy hot beverages, stockings hung at the fireplace, the smell of fir and the colorful cacophony of Christmas lights! All those songs about joy and peace and The Reason for the Season. (I would like to state here for the record that my very most favorite Christmas song is “Fairytale of New York” by The Pogues and second runner up is “Christmas in Hollis” by Run-DMC. Do with that what you will.)

Anyway, my point. (Aren’t you glad I turned this into a blog post and didn’t keep it as a social media post?!) Sometimes people around you are going through things, carrying unwanted burdens, that you have no idea bout. Every day, really, but grief and stress are amplified by holidays and anniversaries. You yourself might be going through something, carrying a silent and heavy burden. It’s hard to find grace for others when you’re fussed and trying to make the holiday season “perfect” (whatever that even means). Be as kind as you can, this time of year. Kind to others, but more importantly, kind to yourself.

If you know someone who’s grieving, they might be feeling a little lost this time of year. A little forgotten. If you want to reach out but don’t know what to say to them, just let them know you get that this time of year can be heavy, and they’re not alone. Sometimes it’s not as important TO say the RIGHT thing as it is to NOT say the WRONG thing. (For example, never tell a grieving person they should be over it by now. How and how long someone grieves is up to them, not to you. I know I say this just about every time I write about grief and this is a hill I will die upon.)

And if you’re the one who’s grieving, hold the same space for yourself that you’d hold for a loved one who was troubled. Be gentle with yourself. Rest and recharge when you need to, even if that’s more than once a day. Find joy where you can, even if you think “this is just a small thing so it doesn’t matter.” It does matter. I tried each of those 100 days Tim was in the hospital to find one thing, even if it was the smallest thing ever, that I could see as beautiful in that day. I took a lot of pictures of a lot of sunrises. So if the first thing you see when you wake up in the morning is the one thing you can call beautiful in a stressful time? So be it. Appreciate the beauty.

xoxo, y’all

( I can not BELIEVE I thought I could distill all this down into a social media post!)