One of the most painful casualties of divorce is the loss of shared celebrations. We don't realize how attached we become to ritual until our stories change and we can no longer rely on the comfort of the expected.
I came across a journal entry from the first Christmas during my divorce. It's a couple of years old now but might as well be a lifetime ago. It made me cry to read it again, but for different reasons, as I reflected on who I was when I wrote it. It was the first Christmas of broken traditions and divided households. We were all pretty raw and worried about how this new life would look. My son Charlie and daughter Katie had grown up with holiday customs that could be trusted to be repeated the following year, until they couldn't. I was putting on an amazing show of being fine with not being with my children on Christmas Eve for the first time and they were learning their own new divorce dance. Watching your child learn how to cope with the unthinkable when they have no control over the outcome is a special kind of torture.
With all of the unpredictability of this year, we're desperate for the familiar. Our patterns serve a purpose and often our own place in our families is rooted in these seemingly simple activities. Who are we without this? What do we do when we have no idea how we fit anymore?
So, I'm sharing this entry because on this particular night during a time of repetitive loss, I got a win. Grace shot through some cracks and we were given a momentary reprieve that made the coming changes a little easier.
These are what you look for. The opportunities for new memories to soften the jagged ones, the chance to focus, if only for a moment, on what you got to keep instead of only on what you lost. A foothold in gratitude. And a continuing belief in the magic of Christmas...
12/25/17
Ten years ago it snowed on Christmas Day. I had to look it up because I don’t really remember it. I was probably staging a wonderful surprise for my then 5 year old boy and 11 year old girl. I was probably playing and bantering with my husband, possibly going over just how drunk some family members had gotten the night before. And I was most likely thinking of how tired I was of hauling everything over to my in-laws to stay the night for what would turn out to be an 18 year tradition that was as wonderful as it was annoying. I'm sure I was in my head a great deal of the time because I’m always in my head too much; judging, worrying, fretting and projecting. But I feel sure that I took the time to know how blessed I was. I know this because I did it often throughout the years when I had my family around me so I know I must have that day too.
It’s been ten years since then. My kids are now 15 and 21, my husband is gone, and it’s snowing on Christmas. It actually started on Christmas Eve right after the Seahawks won. The kids were going to be at church and then at their grandparents for the annual Christmas Eve party. I was feeling strange about spending it alone, but planned to be in bed when they got home. My Christmas Eve plan was to tuck in with a movie and sleep early so I could be up long before the kids in order to help Santa set up his latest surprise. But the snow kept falling and before long it was clear that the kids shouldn’t be driving in it. Katie and I jumped in the car while the roads were still drivable and grabbed Charlie from church. We found an open MOD pizza and brought it home. We watched movies while the snow fell and we were together. A gift I hadn't even thought to wish for.
It’s now 6 am on Christmas Day. Although it’s still dark, I can see the snow has started again, adding to the 4 inches already on the ground. I’m sitting here looking at all of the presents under the tree. The meaning of these gifts has taken on an entirely new level of significance. I’ve watched my kids cling to each other, support each other, encourage each other and assure each other that one would always have the other regardless of what broken grown-ups do. I’ve watched them choose gifts that put those thoughts and feelings into beautiful packaging. I see the gifts from their grandparents in Texas who have somehow managed to make their arms reach all the way up here to hold us together all year long, and I see gifts we already opened with my sister and her wife; my enforcers. Santa has put giant lit candy canes all around the gifts he brought to let us know he ain’t going anywhere. We haven’t opened any of the presents yet but we have definitely received the gifts.
On the drive to get Charlie last night, the snow was falling past our headlights on our beautiful white road, soft Christmas music was playing on the radio, and Katie started to cry. She said, “If there was any year that we needed a white Christmas, this was it.” And so I cried too.
It’s still snowing. Merry Christmas
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