I just took my bedroom Christmas tree down and I can't tell you how good it feels to have it all boxed up. I was excited to put a tree up in my bedroom again. It had been six years since I had put up our bedroom Christmas tree, decked in pearls, off-white poinsettias and a gorgeous variety of blue ornaments. I couldn't wait to enjoy the lights from my desk while I was working at night.
As I opened each ornament box it took me back to seven Christmases ago. Some of the ornaments had never been used and still had their tags on them from the after Christmas sales we had hit that year. With each layer of ornaments I added to the tree my sadness deepened. I finished decorating and stepped back to look at our tree, Donnie's and mine.
Instead of bringing warmth and fulfillment, it brought me heaviness and weighted pain. The soft glow emanating from the corner of my room was like the ghost of Christmas past staring at me with droopy tear filled eyes. It reminded me of hushed conversations we held after putting the kids to bed, planning out their gifts and stocking surprises. How we would gaze at the lights as we cuddled on the bed or how I gave him his gift early because I just couldn't wait anymore.
I didn't realize the tree would throw me back so far or bring me down so low. That's the funny thing about grief. You just never know what is going to trigger it and in such an instant moment you are left breathless as if you've been sucker punched in the belly or pinned beneath an anvil like Wile E. Coyote.
At our grief recovery meeting this Wednesday, our adult group was given Play-Doh to use as part of our activity. We were asked to make something to show how we feel now that the holidays were over. I made a little Play-Doh man with X's for eyes and his mouth gaping open and with the rest I made a boulder. When it was my turn to share, I dropped my boulder on the man and flattened him. Everyone laughed, including me, but it was true.
I have felt flattened by this Christmas. My apartment has been in chaos. My laundry needs washing. My floor needs vacuuming. Everything feels and looks like a wreck. Except for my beautiful, perfect Christmas trees.
So tonight, after I put the kids to bed and took some down time for myself, I looked once again at my bedroom Christmas tree, sighed and started to dismantle it piece by piece: ornaments, poinsettias, pearls and branches. Now it sits in boxes where the tree was standing and to be very honest; I know this doesn't sound like me, being the Christmas lover that I am, but those boxes are just the most beautiful thing I have seen in a few weeks. Well, that is besides my children.
One tree down, three to go...
