And then it hits you.

The day hit me when I realized I don't actually have grief figured out (if you are audibly laughing, I don’t blame you at all). I think I had an idea that I knew how to manage all of this. My mom was very positive, a modern day Pollyanna - she always found the good in any situation and I really try to exemplify that. I also believe in God, and I have faith that I will always be okay as a child of God. So, when it comes to hard emotions, I try to go through each situation with the faith that things will be okay and that’s how I try to stay grounded. Sometimes I can push through and sometimes I really struggle; that's when I ask for help. And that's what brought me to journaling this entry following the day I got rocked by my loss.

The day that hit me was Christmas. 

I survived seeing my mom take her last breath. I survived giving a eulogy at her funeral and her internment where my husband, aunt, cousins and I buried her. I survived her birthday and Thanksgiving. I survived her not seeing Jane’s first giggle and Jack talking more. I survived it all (pat on the back). And then Christmas came and hit me like a ton of bricks.

The whole season was a catch 22. Our toddler finally understood Christmas. He knows “Baby Jees” (baby Jesus) and Santa, and he was actually excited for the day. It was our daughter’s first Christmas. It was another wonderful Christmas with my husband and our families. I thought for sure that all of these wonderful joys would be enough to carry me through missing my mom. 

Christmas was my mom’s favorite holiday. She made it huge every year. She had the incredible ability to make sure that each day of the season had joy. She made sure to always instill in me that Christmas was a celebration of the birth of Jesus, but we also very much enjoyed the secular traditions as well. We watched Elf, Frosty, Rudolph, Home Alone, White Christmas over and over (are you nodding your head thinking of your favorites?). She proudly displayed her nativity each year. She loved all of the Christmas hymns and songs. She got me socks each year and would individually wrap each sock so I would have more to open.  This tradition continued through her last Christmas even though I insisted it was okay to stop. On the 25th of each month, we would call each other to say, “only x months until Christmas!”.  We went to New York City each year to see the tree and enjoy the festivities. 

Needless to say, her absence from this past Christmas was not only loud, it was deafening. So, I rode the wave. I smiled when I wanted to smile, and I cried when I needed to cry.  But I found great peace in knowing she was with us. All that she taught me, all that we had, will always be there.  Looking back now, I see the peace and beauty of it all.  She is now with the very Being we celebrated all those years together.  How can that be wrong?

I continue to struggle as I try to make sense of my loss. I see beauty yet I feel pain. I see others struggle while they make sense of their loss. People around me have suffered losses that are unimaginable to me. There are certainly hard days. But the Pollyanna in me still sees so much good. And my faith carries me through every day, good or bad. God has blessed me more bountifully than I could ever pray for, much less imagine I deserve. For me, I am blessed with all good days, even when they are hard. 

I am not here to preach; I am neither intent nor qualified. We each walk in our own shoes, but we can walk together. The hole I felt on Christmas led me to start this blog, following encouragement from my husband, family and dear friends. I started it as a way to process my grief and I am grateful that you have ridden with me. If you find yourself struggling with a tough day or if you have a day that rocks you, find your outlet for support and plug in. Write, pray, talk, listen, hug, walk, sit. No one fights alone, I'll ride with you.