Christmas Comes Anyway

Something that never seems fair to me is that no matter how important a person is, when they die, the world just keeps going on without them. The sun continues to rise, the seasons continue to change and people keep celebrating holidays, all despite the fact that this most important, loved person is gone.

There was no way of stopping Christmas. It came whether we wanted it to or not. It came with all of its glad tidings, jolly carols and happy people wishing us a “Merry” Christmas. We tried to escape it with plane tickets. We thought about ignoring it until it was over, but, in the end, we surrendered and had Christmas, or at least we went through the motions of it, even though it felt wrong to do so.

We put off getting a tree and having to face the box of ornaments, so many of them made over the years by little hands, as long as we could. Having enlisted family and friends to help decorate the tree, we made it past that hurdle. Decorating the mantel and hanging the stockings was next. More decisions. Which would be worse, to hang all of the stockings (one of which would be glaringly empty on Christmas morning), three of the stockings (leaving one obviously empty hook), or none of them?

We decided to hang all of them and then decided to invite all of Kirsten’s friends over one evening to fill her stocking with their favorite memories of her. As friends arrived, I walked with them to her stocking and let them put their contribution in it themselves. Some of them were visibly moved as they tucked small pieces of paper folded up many times or beautifully decorated cards into Kirsten’s stocking, each entry a personal memory, each one a piece of history, a piece of Kirsten.

It was nice to be around Kirsten’s friends again. It gave us a glimpse into what would have been her world and it livened up the house with the chatter of young people. I hope that it helped them, too. I hope that it gave them a reason to come over and be closer to Kirsten’s memory, a reason they may have been looking for. Some of them asked to spend some time in her room. Before they left, I gave each of them a simple, sparkly, white angel ornament with her initials and her trademark <3 written on it to take home and I also hung one on our tree. I like thinking that every Christmas we will all have matching ornaments that will remind us of Kirsten and of that special time of our lives when she was here.

Last Christmas

On Christmas morning Michelle came down the stairs, oddly alone, to open gifts. I usually take a picture of the girls as they round the corner to catch their first glimpse of the tree, but Michelle quickly shot that idea down. Every picture taken since March has made us sad. We notice what is missing more than what is in the picture. 

The three of us sat on the floor around the tree and alternated opening gifts, trying to mask the fact that Michelle was suddenly opening gifts alone. We saved Kirsten’s stocking for last, wanting to have something to look forward to. We read each memory, one by one, smiling and sometimes crying as we did. It made us feel as if we were, in some way, including Kirsten in our Christmas morning. We could almost feel her presence in the words of her friends…words of love, friendship and joy.

It’s the most surreal feeling…knowing in your head that the world can’t stop because of one person but feeling that is disrespectful of it not to.