Grief in the Celebrating

Christmas trees glowed. Sugar cookies enticed guests to eat. Festive decorations glittered.

At the annual Christmas gathering, residents of my community arrived to sing traditional holiday songs. Friends at one table moved chairs so I could join them along with another lady who came alone. 

As I talked with my new friend, we discovered both of our husbands died of the same disease-ideopathic pulmonary fibrosis. Alan almost four years ago and her husband last April. 

“You are still going through firsts,” I said.

She nodded. I knew the fresh pain. My good friend, Bill, died of the same disease that day. I dealt with the grief of losing another friend but  knowing he no longer suffered. Grief from Alan’s death intensified after dealing with Bill’s death and hearing of her month’s old widowhood. 

When the piano began playing, I pushed aside thoughts of death and concentrated on singing. Most friends at our table belonged to our neighborhood singing group. We sang, harmonized and enjoyed each song both serious and lighthearted.

But as I looked ahead to the next song, my chest tightened. Would I be able to sing it? That song brought tears every year at the candlelight Christmas Eve service. Memories came of so many years when Christmas wasn’t happy.

I sang the first couple of lines easily. Then I struggled to hold in the grief. My throat closed. No words would come. Tears trickled. Maybe no one would notice. Like an ostrich, I averted my eyes. 

From the corner of my eye, I noticed someone get up. A friend moved around the table and embraced me in a hug. Tears flowed. I tried to speak but could hardly get out my words. 

“My friend died today.”

She held me again. Then she returned to her seat.

Tears continued during the rest of the song. But my heart rejoiced at her spontaneous compassion at just the right moment, She didn’t eliminate my festering grief but added a bit of healing salve. 

The recent widow handed me a napkin for my tears. I noticed her tears too and patted her arm. 

“Why did they let us be together?” she asked.

We laughed. With the brief spell of grief partially broken, we both enjoyed the rest of the singing. However, I couldn’t focus on words of many songs which were too painful.

“The Happiest Time of the Year” isn’t for many people. “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” doesn’t happen in lots of families. There is no one to kiss under the mistletoe.

I want to focus on Jesus and the real meaning of Christmas. To help others who are also lonely and sad. Grief doesn’t take a holiday. Whether years ago or only weeks, it ambushes and tries to steal happiness. However, the true joy and peace of the season won’t be extinguished.