I heard this song driving home the other day. It's the song, "Where are you, Christmas?" from the movie, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. It's basically a song of longing; the writer sees Christmas all around but can't seem to find the Christmas inside like she once could. It struck me that, not so long ago, a song like that would find me driving down the road with tears streaming down my face, touched by the longing in the song and sharing in it's sadness.
But not so much now.
I had lunch with a dear friend recently who is going through the terrible sadness of watching her family implode in a mess of disruption, anger and misplaced priorities. In my friend's face I could see the pain of her childhood. She was no longer a grown adult sitting in front of me, but a little girl who just wanted her mommy, a mommy who will never be the mommy her daughter needs her to be.
I can feel the twinge of heartache for a lost parent, but it's faint and far away.
As Eden and I decorated our little house together this year (the first time I've had a partner in the decorating process!) I found my mind drifting back to my own childhood. I remember the years cloaked in golden memory, the ones where Christmas Eve was magical and dear and full of family. And I remember the awful event of losing one's daddy, the painful empty space that ensued, and the awkward attempts to try and recreate what once was.
But it's just a memory now. Knowledge. Not a heartache.
Heartache is par for the course in human existence. It's part of what makes us human. It's as inescapable as the sun's rising and as normal as breathing. It's also temporary, though. Which is really hard to remember when one is in the midst of it all.
I'm grateful that I noticed it, this year. So thankful to appreciate the beauty of that song without having to share in the pain. Cognizent of the fact that songs like that could not be written without the heartache having been there in the first place. And happy that, this year at least, I'm in a place of peace and rest.
It's been a long time coming.
4 comments:
I know exactly what you mean! XOXO
I can relate to this. It's an interesting thing, when that pain finally subsides.
I'm a child of divorce, and I know what you mean about the end of the golden Christmases. I am glad that you have found peace. I have, too, I think. And I will say that having these children to share it with has really helped me in that process. It's not about me anymore, and that's sort of a relief.
Merry Christmas!
That's something I'm learning, too, and witnessing in some loved ones — that the grief always abates, becomes not as sharp. Thanks for sharing this.
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