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di's Insite
Holiday Bells Are Ringing
I hear the bells ringing everywhere now. It is a joy for most to bring in
the season with decorations. Though I can't seem to get mine up, I focus
on happy memories of last year's gathering. Still, tears cannot be avoided
and understandably so. Making new memories and new traditions is hard, yet
I struggle to change a few things this year to make it bearable. Family
wants the same traditions, having wonderful memories of a happy mother who
loved the giving and feasting. I would give them that gift if I could; it
is little to ask and doesn't cost me money. If I could control my
emotions and my mind's flashbacks, it would be an easier gift to give.
Others seem to think letting me cry in front of them is part of theirs and
my sacrifice for healing. I cry enough alone, deep inside of me; I want a
day without tears. Sometimes I think I can do this and prepare myself for
the battle. Pain squeezes my chest till I can't breathe, but I have go
out the door to act like I am enjoying the gathering. I sit and watch,
trying to smile and make chit chat with family and friends. I get
congratulated on how well I am handling the grieving process while inside I
just want to leave. I don't leave for they need to see me, need to know I
am still here. They are not strong enough to endure my absence of another
party; I too am not strong enough to endure another chastisement for staying
home, robbing them of the memory of my presence.
Widowhood is more than sadness at a family member's death. It robs you of
your future hopes of one you trusted to be your rock in times of trouble.
It's a thief in the night, silently grabbing sleep and rummaging through
your dreams. Though your mind says you are strong, your body battles with
strength's soldiers and you loose. When you think you have gone over the
worst, it sneaks back through an unlocked door or worse, smashing through
your mind's window.
The first few months of a sudden death, leave you in shock. You think
nothing is worse for you can't think at all much less feel or eat. Realty
sets in after that and you stumble through the quicksand of your mind.
About the fifth month, you begin to feel you can make it. You set about
getting your house cleaned up or items sorted to give away. Then during
the six-seventh month, you wake up one day, wondering why you feel so low in
energy. The sorrow hits like a tornado, wrecking every plan you built.
You have seen a glimpse of hope before this and now think it too will pass
so you trudge onward, not knowing if the decisions you make will turn on you
one day. Plans made the year before have been destroyed by well meaning
relatives--or ill meaning ones. You pray for their forgiveness as you pray
forgiveness for your own resentment. All the bills you couldn't face
before now haunt you. You try not to think of how you will be living this
time next year. You know the only gift you can give this season is yourself
and your sacrifice of pretending to be happy, surrounded by family and
friends.
As I await my ride to this family gathering, I repeat in my mind, 'you can
do this!' over and over. Inside, I want to run, for the day is without the
control of leaving when I wish, having no transportation. It is just as
well for I can't drive much now without my mind clicking off at odd moments
with season's memories and tears flooding my view. I give this gift of
myself willingly, for family is dear to me. When my ride stops at the
curb, my smile is on display while my heart races ahead. Jingle bells on
the radio make my head turn toward the side window, hoping to stop the
tears before I receive more sympathy, making me cry harder. I remember the
beautiful bells mother collected and my admiration of them.
I will never look at bells quite the same way again.
© 2002 di
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