christmas

This Christmas

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Christmas is Harder than I thought it would Be

It just is harder. Several times over the past few days I have been blindsided by my own emotions. A hymn in church, a song on the radio, a picture on the Frameo, a note in a Christmas card, any of these and all of these bring to mind memories of glad tidings gone by. If I am completely honest with myself, I started it.

A good friend asked what my favorite song/hymn was and I responded “Hallelujah” and could not immediately remember Leonard Cohen wrote it so many years ago. It was often used in the closing scenes of the show “Criminal Minds.” It is a haunting tune, at least it is to me. I think the rendition that is used on the show is the one by John Bon Jovi. I am unsure of that fact but it haunts me and reminds me of Cheryl and our younger times together.

When that happens I just let it roll over me. It is disappointing that Cheryl is no longer with me but we had a great life together. More than fifty years of love, children, busy, travel, learning, excitement, anguish, grace, parties, dinners, Christmases, Easters, egg hunts, summers and summer vacations, it was a wonderful time. We argued too but we never took that to bed with us. She supported me and I supported her.

Today as I put my last stamps on my Christmas messages I set Spotify to play “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen. After that it wandered off to play a not so random collection of songs from various albums. Yusaf (Cat Stevens) started playing and suddenly I was 25 again. It is interesting to me how that happens. Cheryl has long hair and the kids are little. Yusaf is gray these days, as am I.

And though you want to last forever; You know you never will; (You know you never will); And the goodbye makes the journey harder still – Cat Stevens “Oh Very Young”

It is good to remember those times we had.

Time only moves forward. The Christmas greetings are in the mail.

Tomorrow is Christmas eve.

Carpe Diem!

Tug-of-War

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There is always a tug-of-war between what needs to happen and what I want to do.

The first of the Christmas messages is folded and noted and almost sent. It will need a sticker from the government before I can put it in the mailbox. Cheryl sent a hundred or so Christmas cards out to family and friends. During the past few years it became my job to do so. I automated that process by ordering the cards preprinted with a message and a picture. Envelopes were printed with a return address. I knew how to do a mail merge on the Avery labels. Last year I did not. It was simply way to hard.

This year I am sending notes of my own design. Not so much of a Christmas greeting card, that sentiment seems very commercial to me. My notes are more of a generic thanks for your interest and I am doing okay note. Looking at my 75 year old handwriting sends me to the laptop to type. And my hand does not ache when I am done.

I plan to stick with this theme for years to come. We have abandoned personal letters in favor of SMS messages and email. Handwritten notes are more rare. I started writing those to my granddaughter, typed of course, when she started into college last year and she replies by hand in various colored pens and tells me about her experiences there.

I will change my message from year to year. Perhaps I will start a folder on this laptop and fill it with stories and commentary so that all I will do next December is edit and print. Doesn’t that sound organized? Sometimes I amaze myself.

The first note is still laying on the table by itself, lonely with no companions, while I write about writing notes.

Carpe Diem.

Do Crabs Have Eyebrows? And Other Questions

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Early in the morning after awakening I find coffee and turn on a newsy program to get information about the latest weather history. This time of year and on this day that Google Calendar tells me is Native American Heritage Day but the sale folks tell me is Black Friday, the weather folks are doing their best to get us out to shop before the temperature gets to absolute zero. In between the commercial advertisements are entertaining.

A cute little girl asks her mother, “Do crabs have eyebrows?” Today it made me laugh. Why did I laugh on this day?

Who knows? I certainly do not. I tripped over a Spotify playlist of Lindsey Stirling and her high speed electric violin playing and it picks up my spirit today.

And the ads have made me think of Christmases past and hope for Christmases future.

Perhaps I need to be in a crowded place with a hot chocolate in my hand.

Carpe Diem.

Listening Some More

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The holiday festivities are here. The Grief Share topic is “how to survive”. Last year was hard enough. Am I expecting it to be harder? I do not know.

This particular weekend has been and is still a busy one. For some simply being busy helps with grief and I suppose that may be true for me too. Fewer folks showed up for the holiday grief share program. Perhaps that is because they are busy with Thanksgiving planning. Perhaps many simply do not want to think about it. I was not thinking about it until the opportunity arose to attend this special group.

This will be the first Thanksgiving Day – which by the way is my favorite festivity – without Cheryl being physically here. Last year she was not mentally here. I do not expect to not be sad and I will not apologize for feeling that way.

When the carpet cleaner folks are finished today I will decide where to put the Christmas tree. And after I make that decision I will get it out of the box and put it up. I did not do that last year. Perhaps I will start a new tradition this year and place the tree in a different spot. Cheryl will argue with me in my head. I look forward to it (the arguing).

Do not be a curmudgeon, Paul. Try your best to be if not happy, at least, up beat. When we gather this year let’s talk about the good times. I remember a Christmas Eve a long time ago when she insisted that I open her gift to me after we had come home. I wanted to do was go to bed and sleep after a night of celebration and maybe a little too much alcohol. She had made me a shirt. She was so proud of it. Those are the experiences that I want to remember. (I do not remember what I gave her that year.) I was then and am still now impressed with her ability as a seamstress. That is only one of my favorite memories.

Another more recent memory from maybe three years ago, she said to me, “Get your music machine out and turn on Christmas music.” She means Alexa. I cringed when she told to do that. I think I grumped a little too and then I went to get the hockey puck I move around to listen to music. A Christmas song or two in among others is okay. WARM 98’s idea of solid Christmas music, old, new, good, bad, chipmunks, Benedictine monks, rock and roll, country-western, some group of nuns, Bing Crosby, etc. a few years ago lost me as a listener. That was not a big deal to them since I rarely listened to their station. Five weeks of Christmas music is agony to my ear. I feared the worst was going to happen – Christmas carols from Halloween to Christmas. There would be no “Monster Mash”. I said loudly, “Alexa, play Christmas music!” Off we went into the holiday season. Cheryl insisted on making cookies that day and I helped her. (I wish I was not so reluctant to do so that day but that day is history.)

Cheryl often told me a story about peeking through the keyhole of the doorway to the living room and seeing all the toys around the Christmas tree. The keyhole got dark and the door flew open. (Uh oh.) There is more to the story and I wrote it down somewhere. I may spend the rest of the day looking for where I put it.

  • Smile!

Be thankful for what you have been given! Carpe the Holidays and Carpe this Diem and all the rest you are given.

Carpe Diem.

Christmas Season 2023

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(A beginning of a new life and the ending of an old one.)

This holiday season marks the beginning of a new phase in our life. “We’re in this love together” popped up on the Spotify playlist as I started to write my thoughts. Cheryl and I are in this love together and forever.

For the past few weeks I have been organizing, sorting and cleaning our living space. I have gotten rid of multiple copies of old emails and address lists. I have meticulously gone through rubber banded stacks of old Christmas cards and retrieved pictures, snapshots and photographs. The work has been tiring and emotionally draining. Old photos bring back fond memories and nostalgic remembrances of good times. And some old photos do not. Those photographs distract me into detective mode. (Who is that person? Why were we there?) Even with those questions hovering in the background of my mind I think, look how young we were once. How did we get here?

This year has been a tumultuous one with both love and mental chaos, physical challenges, extra equipment and extra medical help as Cheryl’s Parkinson and dementia seemed to overwhelm her and me. Her good days became fewer. Now, today, Thursday, December 28th, my sister Laura’s birthday, Cheryl is staying in the Harbor memory care section of Bridgeway Pointe. How we got here is a story about the agonizingly slow progression of Parkinson’s disease and the mental toll it takes on many of its victims. It is also a story of how it slowly came to me that although I thought my love could conquer all, there is strong evidence that extra hands and expertise were needed. It is a story for another day.

This holiday period is very different. About two weeks before the Thanksgiving Day holiday Cheryl moved into the Harbor. A week and a half later as I took her to David’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, she was resistant to getting out of Bridgeway Pointe to go to David’s house. After that experience I told the kids and extended family that any more celebrations we had to take to Cheryl. We should not expect her to go to them. (It is too hard for her and for her husband.) Cheryl had settled into Bridgeway Pointe in a fashion that I had not expected.

The rest of the holiday dinners and celebrations I attended without Cheryl by my side. I visit Cheryl every day. The kids visit on many days. Her brothers and sisters and friends visit when they can. It is different. I do not know what I was expecting or what I want it to be, all that I know is, that it is different. There is something missing for me at the celebrations. I think that something is Cheryl’s spirit, her smile, her glee watching the kids open presents, catching up on family or simply delight in the moment. “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone?” – these words are from an old song.

From here at this moment in time we begin anew. I do not know what our new life will bring but it will be better for us.

Carpe Diem.