Still in love

The countdown to Christmas is in the home stretch.  The season of joy and peace is here.  I love the Christmas radio station, the lights everywhere, and the piles of snow we've managed to retain.  I love the spirit of my childhood that delights in the traditions.  There's a reason that it's called "the most wonderful time of the year," (at the risk of being cliche).  It really is, for some.

Christmas is a time of joy, but for some it's a time of sadness too.  There are people who will be spending the holiday alone, some for the first time and some for the umpteenth time.  There are people who will be missing.  There are people for whom the holidays are only a reminder of just how hard the times have been.  

While I don't pretend to be alone or destitute, just one of the St. Louis Post Dispatch's 100 Neediest Cases is testament to that, I still have my baggage to add to the not so cheery side of the season as well.  It's been a little over five months since my angel Grandpa E's birthday weekend, since he went to sleep in his reclining chair and woke up in heaven.  Some days it feels as if it's been an eternity since I last heard his wonderful laughter, other days it feels like I just heard the news all over again.  Some days I miss him so much it hurts.  It's taken me about a week now to really begin to comprehend that we're about to face a Christmas without him.  It got worse when I went down my Christmas list and realized that I wouldn't be shopping for his present.  In a very real sense, we're all still in mourning.  The wounds are still fresh, not that I expect to ever miss him less.  

At the same time, I'm positively surrounded by love.  In a way, the trio of my mom, brother, and me have been adopted into a "family."  Last month I featured our family group in my Give Thanks series.  In short, they're a group of families from my church who we join for a weekly night of fellowship (and lots of food).  I love them dearly.  Their support over the past year has been truly a God send.  Just the other night we had our Christmas kick off sort of night, with the last of our Jesse Tree celebration and a good old game of white elephant.  At the end of every family group night, we have a group prayer which we all contribute our concerns and thanksgivings.  On this particular night there was a fairly resounding prayer of thanks for the group and how we've really become like a large (albeit slightly eccentric but nonetheless loving) family.  This really touched me, as I looked around the room at all those dear faces.  At heart I'm a family person; I come from a relatively small family and obviously my immediate family is rather fractured.  This is why I felt so touched by my family group the other night;  they've opened their hearts to the three of us and given us that love I've always wanted in a big family. 
Now before the family I'm related to gets overlooked, I cannot say I'm not loved by them.  They may be small, but they're special.  While my parents are divorced, I know they still love my brother and I.

This harsh contrast between the utter hurt of missing my dear Grandpa and the joy from the rest of my loving family is hard to take in.  In the end, it's love that binds both of these.  It's love that fills my family and it's love that makes me miss my Grandpa so much.  While it hurts, I wouldn't trade loving him for a heart that doesn't ache.  After all, in the end, I'm still in love.

Merry Christmas to all, to those who rejoice and to those who mourn.  May all find the light of love somewhere in their lives.

Signed,

RF

My dear Grandpa E, Christmas 2009