Birthdays, Holidays, and Anniversaries

I heard someone say recently on a radio talk show that the only lesson you get in grief is a crash course. Isn’t that the truth? It’s been a while since I’ve written about Mom and life without her. Anyone who has grieved knows that birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries are the some of the hardest days. With Mom’s birthday coming up this Friday, November 19, and the holidays quickly following that, I think this is an appropriate time for an update.

I had a dream about Mom a few weeks ago. I was in the hospital in labor with our third baby, and she was sitting in a chair in the corner. She was her younger self. Her face and hair were like what I remember it being as a child. We were having normal conversation, as if nothing has changed. When I woke up I wasn’t sad at all. It was more refreshing than sad. I was so grateful to have had another conversation with her. It was that real. And no, I’m not pregnant.

Stephen and I have never had a Christmas tree or decorated for Christmas. Weirdos, I know. I haven’t wanted much to do with the holidays the last couple years, but I’m trying to make more of an effort this year. I bought a Christmas tree on Criagslist, and I even have ideas for stockings in my head.

On Saturday I went to the closet and pulled out two boxes of Christmas stuff that we packed up from Mom’s house two years ago. I don’t remember packing them. Our heads were seriously spinning then – Nate was a baby, we’d just sold everything for a second time and moved back from Turkey, getting ready to move to Texas, cleaning a lifetime of memories out of Mom’s house ... you get the point.

So I started digging. I pulled out a bunch of ribbon and tissue paper and uncovered a wooden nativity set that might be nice to put on the mantle. I kept going and found a couple candy bowls that I remember being on Mom’s coffee table.  And then I pulled out my “Sarah Noble” Christmas stocking that was embroidered by Mom when I was a baby and hung on the mantle each year. I wasn’t prepared for the emotion of that one. I needed to see what else was in the box, so I kept going. Next there was the box with the “Twelve Days of Christmas” glasses that we drank out of every year. And a shoe box filled with Mom’s ornaments. She had an ornament for each year starting in the ‘60s that we divided among us. And then I came across a large dead roach that had been in there for a couple years, and I called it a day. I’ll go back to those boxes on another day when I know what I’m getting into. And of course I left the roach in there. I'm not touching that thing!

As much as I don’t like having my house filled with memories of Mom, I absolutely LOVE having my house filled with memories of Mom. Like the books on our bookshelf that she taught out of for years, filled with her handwriting, her favorite passages underlined, and notebook pages with quiz questions and notes stuck inside. Her sewing machine and leftover scraps of fabric from the quilt she made for Nate. The ukulele and accordian that I’ll learn to play someday. I could go on. Treasures!

I’ve grieved hard, but as I approach this third year of birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries, they don’t seem quite as scary. I’m not dreading them. I feel like I can do more than just make it through them this year, but I can begin to really live them again. Life can be normal – the new normal. And I’m really grateful for the new normal.

 A tribute to Mom on our bookshelf: A picture of her during her early teaching days, surrounded by a collection of her favorite pieces of literature.