Christmas Came and Went

Though stressful, Christmas day was basically uneventful. My sister was here with me. We had an early lunch or late breakfast at Jack-in-the-Box, went to the cemetery, went to a movie, drove around looking at lights and then ate our Christmas dinner around 8:30 that night.

The day was truly so different than how I had imagined. Once again, instead of honoring my feelings and what I wanted, I placed another's feelings at the front of the line although my sister would probably disagree because I was more than a bit grumpy and a lot stressed. I had hoped for a day of devotion to Mother's memory, of walking the prayer labyrinth, of listening to the chimes, of experiencing the openness of all my feelings and tears, of being more in touch with my spirituality. And the list is endless, but I wanted to openly focus on Mother and the memory of our journey together.

I believe there is no such thing as coincidental happenings, so there was a reason for the way this first Christmas of my life without my Mother meandered around without any clear direction. I can only hold on to and believe God had control of the day and was with me, providing for me, giving me what I could handle and taking from me what He knew I could not handle.

Why do I feel so alone in my grief and my memories?

Cannot the weeping angel take away my tears?

Cannot the peaceful moment of her passing fill my heart once again?

If I could but stay focused on Tagore's thought that "death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come," then perhaps the tears would flow less, perhaps I could retrieve that peaceful moment.