Enduring Christmas

I have no doubt that by the end of March I will be able to look back on the first year after David’s death and see clearly just how badly I’ve actually handled so many things. Our Christmas dinner, or lack of it, might be a good indicator.

I was so proud, having gotten through Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, relatively unscathed. One of my sons had bought breakfast pizzas for us to enjoy after we unwrapped the gifts, so we really weren’t hungry yet when Ben and Elizabeth joined us after attending a noon Mass. I enjoyed watching my grandchildren open their gifts, reveling in their squeals of joy. It was only when I heard one of them say, “I’m hungry,” that it occurred to me~ I’d forgotten all about Christmas dinner. I always made a ham, potatoes, vegetables and rolls, and usually offered Ben and Elizabeth a plate, too. I felt it then; a looming sense of panic rising in me. How could I have forgotten Christmas dinner? What did I think my children were going to eat on Christmas day?

“I’m hungry,” I heard again, in a louder voice, and then a “Me too.”

“What were you going to make for Christmas dinner?” one of my older children asked in a very reasonable tone, and I gulped. There was no real explanation for my behavior. I’d been so intent on getting through this first Christmas without David. I’d bought a new tree, decorated it with new balls, hung the stockings, mailed cards, purchased gifts and wrapped them with Katie’s help. We’d even made cut-out cookies, for gosh-sakes, something I had actually considered hiring a stranger to do.

I’d endured.

What I hadn’t done was plan or prepare a Christmas meal.

Several faces were looking at me expectantly by this point, including those of my sweet, hungry grandchildren.

“I forgot all about Christmas dinner,” I finally admitted.

And no one batted an eye.

Which is how I ended up at the cemetery on my way to the Kwik Star for a frozen pizza.

Is there any sadder place to be than a cemetery on Christmas day? I wondered as I stood in front of David’s tombstone with a hand full of plastic Christmas flowers that I stuck into the snow. “I’m not doing too good without you,” I whispered, laying my hand on the top of the cold stone. “I miss you so much.”

Is there anything sadder than being in a cemetery on Christmas Day? Except, perhaps, a Kwik Star?

“I ended up in the cemetery,” I confessed to a stranger in line at Walmart the next morning when she asked how my Christmas had been. “And I forgot to make Christmas dinner,” I was going to add, until I saw her eyes fill with tears.

“Me too.”

“Who did you lose?” I gently asked.

“My son. He committed suicide. He left behind a wife and three children.”

We talked as my purchases were rung up; about first Christmases, the sadness of ending up in a cemetery on a holiday, and about the pain of getting through that first year.

“They tell me it gets better,” she said with a sigh.

I thought I was there to get some spectacular deals on half-price gift sets that I had coupons for, but that had inexplicably been removed from the shelves. Instead, I now believe I was there to hug a stranger.

“Can I give you a hug?” I asked shyly before I left. She nodded eagerly, and one small sob escaped her as I squeezed her shoulders tightly.

I may look back on this year and remember it as the year I did so many things so badly, and the Christmas I forgot to feed my family.

Or I might just remember it as the year I learned what it means to reach out to others.

Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. Galatians 6:2

3 thoughts on “Enduring Christmas

  1. HappyMomof5 says:

    We went to the cemetery, too, and it started to rain just as we got there so we didn’t stay long. I was praying for you all that day as we struggled to get through it. If it makes you feel any better, I forgot to prepare dinner, too. Thankfully, we had leftovers that my mom sent home with us a day before that. I am glad you had the chance to encourage someone else!

  2. sandielzinga says:

    So here I am, almost 11 years after my husband died & I feel bad because I forgot to go to the cemetery! You did well your first Christmas, Mary. I love ;how you see the really important stuff…like giving that woman a hug!

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