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Writer's pictureJoyce Ann

A Decade of Grief: My Journey of Healing and Self-Discovery Part VII

As the holidays approached, I felt like my harness just fastened on a rollercoaster that was about to take off at high speed and I was in for the ride. My chest tightened. My tear ducts refilled. My depression was creeping to the top of an already bubbling volcano. The holidays were zooming in and there was nothing I could do about it. The Hallmark movie commercials. The store commercials. The decorations. The once dark country road was slowly lighting up with gutters filled with lights, large evergreens lit to their fifteen foot tippy top, inflatable snowmen and Santas and the occasional ‘over the top’ decorators that must save all year for those few months' electric bill. Stores with Christmas music playing overhead as I walk in with the generic, “Happy Holidays” greeting. I, for the first time, felt like Ebenezer Scrooge. Humbug. I wasn’t feeling it. I wanted to roll up in a corner until January 2nd at least. Longer if possible, but the 2nd would do. 

Mom was Christmas. She loved to decorate. She began before Thanksgiving. Her tree (pictured below) was always put up with care and love. Each ornament strategically placed. Before there was garland, each piece of tinsel was carefully placed as well. It would take her a solid week to put up her tree and village. Each room in her house was joyfully decorated. She changed out the tablecloth and pictures on the walls and towels and potholders and plates and, well, her house transformed. Much later in life she became Mrs. Clause at a church that served dinners for the homeless. I would play Christmas carols while she handed out gifts to the children. 

Without her, Christmas seemed so empty. 

First I had to get through Thanksgiving. I made a large, traditional Thanksgiving dinner for Mark, Jessica, her boyfriend and a couple of her friends. I was hoping if the house was filled with laughter, I could muddle through. Although the company was enjoyable and I certainly needed some of those gut-busting laughs, the emptiness that mom would have filled was noticed. When the night was over, guests were gone and the mess was more or less cleaned, I remember thinking, “now to get through Christmas”. The holiday this year was more of a chore than a celebration. As the weeks went on, that rollercoaster ride began gaining speed and I avoided as many people, parties, and places as I possibly could. 

And just when I thought my heart couldn’t break anymore, 2015 rolled around and I was moving into a new year without my mother. She was officially becoming someone in my rear view mirror. That’s how I look at the new year. The people I lose become people in my rear view mirror that I simply move on without. They are forever left behind. Cold? Maybe. But true. I have memories, pictures and ‘things’ but I don’t have them. 

As glad as I was to see 2014 go, a part of me was forever staying behind with them. All I could wish for was a better 2015. 


Next Week: Going Through Mom’s Things


Until Next Time…





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