Mindfully melancholy at Christmas

My heart is heavy this Christmas.

My best friend lost her dad a week ago, and one of our daughter’s former classmates died by suicide.

I also heard that two gentlemen from my hometown, one the school janitor and another a bus driver, also had passed away.

I know that loss is a part of life, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“We are here.” That’s what I repeated to every person I hugged or talked to at the prayer service for my daughter’s classmate. And I listened to his grandma tell us what she remembered about her grandson.

At the funeral for my friend’s dad, I heard all about his last days of dialysis and doctoring.

I was so grateful to spend one last evening at their family farm this past summer, seeing Keith in his favorite chair. I also got to meet his two grandsons. I’m told he made several trips out to the farm, where he was at home for most of his life, during his last months. What a gift for him and for all of his family, to see him and enjoy his company there.

While at the farm, I felt like I was back in high school, spending time with friends on a Saturday night. We sat outside on the deck on that beautiful summer night and watched the sun go down and talked about so many different things.

Speaking of high school, we performed a play my senior year called “The Empty Chair.” Although the young man in that story died of a drug overdose, his impact on others could not be overstated, and the varied ways we all handle grief was well covered.

This past week I reminisced about those days, and remembered the time our friend group celebrated Christmas there together. The memories of that time became so vivid, as it was that same time of year just a few years ago.

That’s what we do as we grieve. We cling onto those precious memories and remember what each of these people meant to us.

Yes, Christmas will be different this year for many of us.

Grandfield Lutheran Church is one of my absolute favorite places to worship, and it seems as though the only times I get there are for funeral services. It reminds me of Christmases spent with my extended Hendrickson and Myhre family, attending Christmas Eve candlelight service there as a child. The next time Grandfield hosts a Christmas Eve service, I will plan to be there.

Yes I’m a little melancholy this Christmas, but I’m also mindful that I must not let the season pass without taking time to enjoy the company of the loved ones who are here.

With just a few days of shopping, cleaning and cooking left before we host my family on Christmas Eve, I have come to the conclusion that at some point I need to leave the to-do list behind.

No, the basement might not get cleaned (sorry family), and I will definitely not have time to do all of the preparation and baking I want to do. But, I’m grateful to have my family around me this holiday, and I will enjoy every minute with them. Every moment is precious, and our lives are worth celebrating. Merry Christmas, and “God bless us, every one!”