Usually, we have one artificial tree with all of the kids' ornaments on it, and a bigger, live tree with the "fancier" ones. After Jack died, the Kids' Tree became more precious to me than ever, and I've even started putting "non-Christmas" items on it, as a wonderful way to touch and remember special photographs and keepsakes once a year, such as Legos, and small crafts the kids made in school. I even tied our old house key on it with a ribbon, to remember where our family used to live.
Andrew and I set up the artificial tree today (in under a minute-- thank you pre-lit trees!) and I'll ask Margaret and Tim whether they would like to decorate it with the kids' ornaments or the fancy ones this year. Can't wait to see Andrew's reaction to ALL THINGS CHRISTMAS!
Love, joy, wonder, pain, and longing-- this season has it all.
Here's one of my favorite pictures from Christmas past when we picked out a tree:
5 comments:
Oh yes, Andrew is about the prime age for the Christmas magic to begin!
That is one sweet photo of Jack and Margaret!
I love your open heart and following your journey
Such lovely thoughts and ways to remember the joys of yesterday, the fun of today and the hopes for the future.
Just wanted to tell you that I remember you telling us all about Jack being thankful, at thanksgiving, for dough (I hope I remember that correctly!). Funniest thing ever. I turned it over in my head many times and wondered what he was thinking about. I also remember you telling us about him being a little tiny and being distressed about how so many people pursued transitory joy instead of lasting joy. Pretty amazing. I really do have a sense (I think) of what Jack was like. And that's because you wrote about him so well. I've always felt a little sad when I see obits that describe the deceased in ways that convey nothing about them really (I know an obit only has a a tiny amount of space to work with, so this is not a criticism). But everyone always sounds the same in obits. Your epic, years long work at conveying not just what he was like (and I know it's never TRULY possible), but the unbelievable amount of work it has taken to live without him, has been so beautiful (and hard, of course). It may just be in my head but I feel like I do have a sense of him. I've known other very serious, thoughtful kids like him (not the same, but a vague spiritual resemblance). I think I get it. Somewhat, anyway. I SO SO SO admire your ability to just keep showing up every day (or, you know, most days). You even manage -- while demonstrating incredible integrity and fearlessness -- not to make us all feel small and inadequate by comparison.
Humans are such fragile creatures -- both physically and emotionally. We break so easily. But I guess the cracks are how the light gets in.
Happy Holidays! Bingle Jells!
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