This is the time of the year which is happy for some of us and equally challenging and deeply sad for others. Some look forward to spending time with their families, others dread having to do that. Some wish they were alone, others dread the holidays because they are. Some might not be alone physically but feel so alone in their heart, as they have lost a loved one. Some might rush into a new relationship prematurely just to not feel alone at this time, to which we give so much significance. The holidays and the end of one year and the beginning of a new one seem to be overladen with meaning. Do we ever stop to think about how arbitrary it is?
I have experienced my share of beginnings and endings at this time of the year as well. My first marriage began with a December wedding and another significant relationship ended during a December. I have had an equal measure of joys and griefs at this time. For others, the wounds of Christmases past run so much deeper.
I am honoured to be able to share such a true Christmas story with you, written masterfully as always, by my amazing friend Susan Crossman, who I admire thoroughly for her talent, her vulnerability, her courage and her zest for life. Her holiday message, deeply touching, also says to me, if she can smile and see the potential of each new year clearly, perhaps so can others…
The presents were wrapped, the children were finally in bed and the stuffing was sitting in a bowl in the fridge, ready to be loaded into the turkey the next day. Outside, in the park across the street, the sheet of snow that blanketed the ground was sparkling in the glow of the streetlights. A fire burned steadily in the hearth. Our field-stone fireplace was 6-metres wide, and one of the many reasons we had fallen for this gorgeous house in Beaconsfield, Que. We had been so full of joy when we had moved in. We had been full of hope.
After more than 13 years together, my husband and I had also been full of love for each other and the wonderful family we had cobbled together out of the ashes of our previous marriages. Two new babies had been born, and they were young, and sweet and hoping Santa would drop by in the night. They had fallen asleep straining to hear the sounds of reindeer hooves on the roof. Wait – weren’t those sleigh bells they had just heard?! We had answered that question countless times before our kids had finally drifted off into Dreamland.
A decade ago, coloured lights danced around the living room that Christmas Eve and the tree stood in a corner, resplendent in its thick coat of coloured balls and lights, shimmery strands of tinsel and home-made decorations, lovingly crafted.
But I wasn’t feeling at all merry. In mid-December, my husband and I had been informed that he had fourth-stage stomach cancer and he was going to die…
TO CONTINUE READING please click on the The Globe and Mail Article
Wishing you and your families a
HAPPY & SAFE HOLIDAY!