Christmas Past, Present, and Future.

There are seven stages of grief: disbelief, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression, and acceptance/hope.

Disbelief, Denial, and Distance.

Last Christmas was my and Brian's first Christmas together as husband and wife. It was also my first Christmas without Robby. He had passed away early in September. I was heavily still in the stages of disbelief and denial. 

I was still excited about Christmas. There was snow (we lived in northeast Kansas then). We bought our first Christmas tree and I decorated our sweet little third floor apartment before it was even Thanksgiving. Brian and I watched Christmas movies and went ice skating and ate endless amounts of peppermint ice cream and sugar cookies. The Christmas spirit was in full swing. 

I was ten hours away from East Texas and my parents. Ten hours away from where Robby would have been. It was easy to compartmentalize the different parts of myself: new wife, grieving sister. 

Home: No Rent, No Retreat.

This year we moved in with my parents in Texas to help us save money for a down payment on a house. They're so generous for helping us in this way and putting up with us. But there's no escaping for me here. No private retreat. I'm in my parents house and my brother isn't. 

Guilty 

It's in my face everyday that my parents are sad. How can I be happy when I feel so guilty? The lack of Robby's presence in our house where he belongs is horrible. I have my laundry hamper in what should be his bedroom and feel the most horrible guilt over it. I see gifts under the tree for me, but none for him. I shop for others, but not for him. The guilt hurts. I feel guilty for not getting him a gift for his last Christmas. I was a broke college student. That was a sorry excuse and the price of it is guilt. Everywhere there is guilt in my parents house. There is no escape. There is no way to compartmentalize. 

This Christmas I haven't really been in a festive mood. My mom put up her tree and my dad put up the lights. My mom said she didn't want Robby to see that his house was the only house that was dark. We keep the tree lit for him. It's a comforting sight and I know he would love it. He always loved Christmas. 

Luckily the reason for the season isn't in the trees, the gifts, the ice skating, or the cookies. Because of Christ, I will see my brother again. That is where I find comfort and for that I can always give thanks. 

Merry Christmas