From grief to hope

It’s the first of December and the front room of my little house is in disarray. There are totes everywhere, half opened and partially rummaged through. Fall decorations sit on the floor. My Christmas tree is up and decorated (and then at times partly undecorated by the felines). I have a few lights in the windows. The stocking stand is up with most of the stockings hung on it. But little else looks holly and jolly in the place and my living room is a huge disaster.

Usually by this point in the extended weekend that is Thanksgiving break, everything holiday decorating wise is done. Fall usually is neatly tucked away until next September and, to quote the other half, “Christmas has thrown up in the place.” But this year, it’s a bit harder for me to get into the holiday spirit. November packed a punch that has left me emotionally, physically and mentally drained to the point where it’s difficult to find the energy to do anything festive. Grief hits hard, even though sometimes I don’t feel like I am really grieving. But the ripples of the sudden deaths of my mother-in-law, my uncle, and my friend Katie and even those of a few acquaintances have hit me hard, crashing at times like tsunamis pounding the shore, but other times just gently lapping at me.

I am mourning, even if I am not fully cognizant of that. I am in the throes of a grief that hasn’t had time to fully process. But I wouldn’t be morning if I wasn’t a part of the story that was the lives of Shirley, Uncle Mark, Katie, Suzanne, Carolyn and others. I wouldn’t be mourning if I didn’t know love for each of those who have died. I wouldn’t be lamenting at times without knowing the joy of their relationships, those long held and those only known for a short while. I wouldn’t be anxious at times in this grief if I didn’t first know peace that came with them. I wouldn’t have despair now if I didn’t know what hope felt like.

And there is still hope yet.

It’s a bit ironic that this is all coming together today, on this first Sunday in Advent that is traditionally the Sunday of Hope.

Those who have followed my blog know that my absolute favorite word is hope. It has been my favorite since I was a child. It’s a word I look for over and over again. The week of Hope in the Advent calendar has always been one of my favorites.

But I also try to strive for the other themes of Advent as well.

But this year just seemed to hit hard. There have been circumstances I could nor control. There have been decisions made and decrees that I have had to abide by, even when I haven’t wanted to. There have been people I’d rather not deal with and troubles that i wish would leave me alone. And then, there’s unfathomable plague of malaise that is grief.

But there is hope here too, shining magically and helping me to cope. It reminds me that without darkness, the light just doesn’t seem as bright. Without rain or snow or storms, the sunshine isn’t as welcome. Without grief, love wouldn’t be as sweet or as precious.

And thus, I trek on. Eventually the decorations will be up, finding new places to perch since this abode is different from last year. The joy will be back, albeit perhaps a bit bittersweet this year. There will be peace too, that calmness that comes from just taking a moment to oneself. There always has been plenty of love, surrounding me as I write my own story. And hope….. it shines eternal, glimmering ever in the darkness and finding its way to make some more magic.

Stay magical, friends.

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