This is our fourth Christmas since Samuel’s life began, and third since it ended. In many ways, it’s easier than previous years. But that’s mostly because we’ve completely reconstructed how we participate in the holiday.
Instead of big holiday gatherings – with lots of people, gifts, music, and festivities – it’s just us.
Instead of a huge tree, decorated top to bottom with beautiful coordinated ornaments, ribbon, and garland, it’s a little tree, with just the special ornaments we have for Samuel.
Instead of lots of gifts, it’s a few little things that bring a bit of happiness for the fleeting moments before we think too much about what we really want.
We may sleep in. We may get up early. We may get dressed. We may just stay in pajamas all day. We may eat a meal together. We may just graze. We may watch a Christmas movie. We may just watch something that has nothing to do with anything. We don’t have any expectation for ourselves, or the day.
But always, we remember. The little boy who should be overjoyed. The one who should be unable to contain his excitement. The getting-so-big boy who would hardly be able to sleep because “Santa is coming!”
It should be the opposite of how it is. And we’re learning to live with that fact that it will never be as it should.
That’s just how it is when you have no living children. The magic of Christmas is lost, and most things have no meaning, at least not how they did before. The one our hearts long for most is missing.
Like the last years without him, we will survive this day. I hope you do too.
Dear sweet Samuel,
We love you with all of our hearts! You are our special little guy, and we can’t wait to see you again.
Sending you a million kisses and loves,
Mama & Daddy
- Still Mothering - May 5, 2017
- The Mothering Project - April 9, 2017
- At Least - November 28, 2016