Not everyone is in the holiday spirit. Amidst the backdrop of Christmas trees, family gatherings and — for the second time in less than a month — the meeting of the Meat Superpowers (turkey and ham), there are many of our friends and neighbors who see the holiday season as a dark void filled with emptiness and loss.
I find myself among those this year, having endured the loss of my uncle, several old friends, and the forever caretaker of this column, Frances Durisseau. Most painfully, I lost Bree Pugh, a woman who I had been dating for two months, less than a couple of hours after planning our next date. Making matters more painful was that we lost Bree on April 9, which happened to be my 50th birthday.
Christmas week has brought a sense of dread upon my soul, for although being surrounded by family and friends is a blessing not taken for granted, emptiness and heartache about “What Might Have Been” is an emotional millstone upon my neck.
“The one thing Bree wanted most was to marry a man who made her feel loved, and she knew it was you,” her parents told me when they first informed me that she passed away. It is a sentence that has been a double-edged sword of warmth and heartache during the past eight months. Did I feel the same way about her? Well, I’m writing this column, so…
Heavy hearts prevail during this second pandemic-filled Christmas. Be it the loss of a loved one, a job, or the myriad other reasons that have led so many of us into a dark space in the time of love and light, do know I feel your pain. Our sick, shut-in and loss are often ignored against the backdrop of excited children, classic holiday movies (Die Hard is a Christmas movie. Full stop) and countless traditions. Christmas Day will feel like any other 80-degree (seriously, 80? On December 25???) Saturday, for it will be just another day, yet one in which almost every business will be closed.
Christmas is about hope. It is about the birth of Jesus Christ and the gift He gave the world. His arrival is a reminder that light outweighs the dark, and that no matter what level of grief we are in, there is a reason to dry our tear-stained eyes and lift the millstone off of us, “For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime. Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes in the morning (Psalms 30:5).”
Know that God is here for you. Know that I am as well. Should you find yourself in a dark place on Christmas Day, call me at 832-479-4748, and I will be happy to share some of my time to help you through whatever darkness you are going through.
We will get through this. Together. Know that you are loved, not only by God, but by me.
