Truth be told, I’ve been working on this post for a couple of weeks, trying not only to figure out what it is that I want to say, but also how to say it. And I meant to finish writing this in a coffee shop yesteday, but for multiple reasons, I did not get there when I intended to, and after ten minutes of standing in line – only to find out that they were out of apple juice and could not, therefore, make the drink I wanted – I gave it up entirely and left.
I might have cried in the car, a little bit. But it wasn’t really about the apple juice, nor was it really about having to find another time and place to write.
Grief comes out in weird ways, y’all.
* * * * *
It’s been just over a month since my father died, and I find myself sometimes stepping outside of my grief to observe it in all its strangeness. The first month of mourning in Judaism is called shloshim, and as Lauren Winner describes it in Mudhouse Sabbath, its observation is a little more restrictive in its practice than I felt would work for me, but as I’ve moved through these past few weeks, the reasons for why it’s so restrictive have begun to make a lot of sense. Winner writes about the way in which it “eases” one back into society, and there is some good logic and psychology there.
I still do not want to go to parties. (I mean, I’m an introvert, so that’s kind of a thing anyway, but right now – definitely not so much.)
* * * * *
I find myself wrestling with some of the themes of this Advent season: hope, joy, peace – but not in a bad way. Saying the Kaddish twice a day is helping with that. The Kaddish is a very hope-full prayer, and it gets you out of yourself. Its words are a prayer for the people who are praying with you – for God to “give reign” to His kingship in their lifetimes, and for the experience of His peace in all things – and not just for them, but for all of the entire family of Israel. And you get included in the ask because others are praying with you. And also because you’re a part of the family.
And praying it reminds you, twice a day, that life is about living into this ask for abundant peace.
May there be abundant peace from Heaven
and life upon us and upon all Israel. Now say:
Amen.
He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace,
upon us and upon all Israel. Now say:
Amen.
(Sidenote: I am pretty sure the reason you’re supposed to take ten friends with you is so you don’t forget to pray it.)
* * * * *
I find myself dreading innocent questions: like “How are you?” and “Do you need anything?”
Someday I will know the answers to those questions again.
But right now, “how are you?” is a hard question, because most of the time, I don’t know. The answer to that question changes often, sometimes within 5 minutes. Sometimes, I’m okay; sometimes, I’m really not.
And I know that when people say “let me know if you need anything,” it is meant to be thoughtful, and usually sincere – and while I do appreciate the heart behind it, the truth is: I don’t really know if/when I need something, or even what it is that I need – and in the rare moments when I do, I usually cannot bring myself to ask.
Because what if you say no?
Or because it seems like too much. Or too silly.
A spa day. Unlimited access to venti caramel apple spices with extra whipped cream. A plane ticket home to Chicago for a week. A day off to clean my house. Candlelight. A dinner out with friends. A new book. A lifetime subscription to Hallmark Now.
Will these things help? I have no idea. Maybe? But I don’t know. I have no idea.
And so I find myself deeply grateful for the friends who have not just asked me what I needed, but have also simply expressed – or asked permission to express – their love in practical ways:
In this season, I find it is so much easier to say “no” to particular, specific offers of help than to come up with an idea of something that might – so I am grateful for the friends who have taken the time to come up with these practical expressions of love, and who have not waited for me to reach out to them.
* * * * *
Friends and colleagues who have experienced losses of their own have warned me that the first year is the hardest, especially the holidays. I suspect they are right. Christmas is hands-down my absolute favorite time of year, but this year – for the second time in four years – there is such a very deep sadness underlying it. Perhaps this is why I am so weirdly obsessed with Hallmark Christmas movies right now – I have always loved them, but this year I find they are helping me cope. Losing myself in a story, letting the hope of happy endings inspire me, has always been a way to deal with hard things – and this year, more than ever, I have needed that. I will likely go back to reading more serious things in the new year – I think it’s time to re-read A Ring of Endless Light and A Grief Observed (although I have no idea which boxes they might be in) – but for now, the fluff of problems that can be solved in less than two hours and the beauty of classic Hallmark Christmas decor are meeting some sort of need in my soul.
* * * * *
Well. This will probably be my last post before Christmas, so I’ll close with a Christmas wish.
May you know abundant peace and life in this season of joy. And if you, like me, aren’t feeling particularly joyful right now – know that the joy is still real, and someday you will feel it again. He is still Emanuel – God with us – and nothing will ever change that.
Grace and peace, friends. Merry Christmas.
More to come,
Happy
Image © 2018 Simple Felicity
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