A Christmas of Grief, Love and Holding On

To say that Connor loved Christmas would be an understatement.  He would be so excited when the Christmas tree went up and he always wanted to be the one to put the angel on the top.   When we got a really tall tree that required a tall ladder – and a tall person – he still insisted.  It would make me so nervous because he would be on the very top of the ladder leaning over on one leg wobbly.  Inevitably, though, he’d always do it and then beam with pride.  

He had “his ornaments” too.  Of course, there are the ones from when he was a baby like a Swarovski diaper pin and a “baby’s first Christmas”.  But also ones that documented things in his life like a license tag for his first car, Santa bench pressing for his love of weightlifting and a USF ornament for his college of choice.  His last Christmas, he couldn’t come over when we decorated the tree and got upset with me because I didn’t set his ornaments aside for him to put on the tree himself.   Never could I have imagined that he wouldn’t be here to do it himself ever again.

The first Christmas without him, I couldn’t bring myself to put any of our family ornaments on the tree.   Instead, it was decorated with generic green, red and gold balls.  If anybody noticed, they didn’t say anything.   This year, I figured I’d try.  I laid all the ornaments out on the dining room table and tried not to cry when I came to Connor’s.  I wasn’t sure what to do, honestly.  Do I put them on the tree? Do I not put them on the tree?  I felt like I would be denying he existed if I didn’t put them on but wasn’t sure I would be able to do it.  I asked his brother if he wanted to.  I was certain he’d say “no”, but, to my surprise, he said “yes.”  I then watched (but tried not to let him know I was watching) while he thoughtfully and delicately put each of his brother’s ornaments on the tree. 

Once the tree was decorated, I did what I always do and sat on the couch to admire it.  As I looked at the thoughtfully placed ornaments and his stocking hung with everyone else’s, that’s when the immense wave of grief hit me.  Hard. I didn’t try to stop it this time. I just let it come. 

We will continue with the new tradition we started last year, which includes giving his brother and step siblings a gift from Connor representing something he loved.  Last year it was shoes.  This year, a type of clothing.   To be clear, despite the decorations, baking and presents, I am not excited about the holiday.  What was once my favorite, is now overshadowed by the many Christmases I will no longer get to share with Connor, or his wife and children that he would’ve had one day.  But, I will try to find joy in the little things, including my memories and making sure his ornaments always have a special place on the tree.  ∞