December 24, 2012
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And so this is Christmas, Part II
Posted by Sammy
Christmas Eve
From Middletown Ohio
I’m home. It’s a surreal moment in Life 2.0. I am sitting watching Christmas movies with Sara. Soon we will go to church (Ill be working on this post off and on all night), then come back and wrap presents and have a Christmas movie marathon. I’ve done this before. It was December 24, 2003. 9 Years ago. She was 10. I was 23. It was supposed to be my last Christmas at home because I was getting married in 6 months. Now I am back home for Christmas Eve, just a few weeks off of a funeral that 9 years ago I never thought was conceivable. And yet it is. And the sorrow is great. The loss is deep. And yet, there is hope; there is joy. There is light. Because this is Christmas. It is light and love come to earth. And it is what gives me peace that what Stephanie has done and what I am grasping is not a finality but a transition. That’s my faith and that is my comfort. And it is real. Because this is Christmas.
Christmas has always been a special time of year to me. Ever since I was a child it was my favorite time of year. My teachers would call home wondering what was wrong with me in class. That was starting around early November by the way. The sight of the church decorated after Thanksgiving was exciting and joyful. I remember the look of the tree at my grandma Colleen’s house and the smell of the food for lunch she always had set out. I remember the evening family gathering with my cousins and brother and sister and all the wild chaos that is a Minge family Christmas. And I remember Christmas morning. I’d be up before the first light with anticipation of the day. In fact when I was very young my parents and our friends across the street had a pact that the first one up called the other so they had to be up too since their kids were my age and just as excited.
In high school my room looked like Christmas threw up and the parade of Christmas concerts was endless. And it was a joy. Even up until my senior year I was up even just a little early.
With Stephanie it was just the same. We always went and bought our Christmas tree right after Thanksgiving. We would decorate the house all in one day and then clean up and just look at the tree, usually with silent night playing in the background. We joked about the marathon that was Christmas for us. It started Christmas Eve with pajamas being opened at her parents house and ended at my parents house the next night, with several meals and gift explosions in between. We loved it. There was joy. There was happiness. Because it was Christmas.
Even in 2005 we found joy. Stephanie woke me at around 430 am. Her temperature was pushing 102. Neutropenic fever. Her white count had plummeted after her first round of chemo. We were newbies. We were scared. We had to go to the ER. On Christmas. We would remain there until nearly dinner time on Christmas Day. It was the first Christmas we had ever spent away from home. And yet that night, we did presents, watched Christmas specials and sat down to Christmas dinner. We even watched a parade and laughed at A Christmas Story in our ER room. We found joy in the ER. Because it was Christmas.
Through every recurrence, chemo round, surgery, transfusion and new challenge, Christmas always came and with it was some time, even just one day to live in a world of joy and a world without cancer. I wrote a post back in 2008 that many said they found moving. It had the same title as this one. I was writing in the silence of my house while Stephanie slept before heading to bed myself. It was a moment of peace and reflection; one where I was truly cherishing having come out of the woods with the first liver tumor and having Stephanie home, but knowing full well what may lie ahead. It was a stark dichotomy knowing we had beaten the monster yet again, but that it may always be lurking under the bed…but there was no knowing.
Now we know. The monster was under the bed the whole time.
But Christmas came then and so it does now. And there will be joy. There will be light. Because it is Christmas.
I know how much joy this time of year gave Stephanie and how much she loved that I loved it so much too. Were I to forsake this joy in the name of sitting in grief and sorrow; were I to give up the lights, the gifts and the laughter and color for tears and sadness it would break her heart as much as any recurrence of cancer. And so I CHOOSE JOY!
I could not be more committed or sure about that choice. Tonight’s service cemented that. Family by my side, friends old and new and the pure joy and peace of Silent Night in a sanctuary illuminated by candlelight. Stephanie’s physical absence will always be a void to me, but it is a void she would want filled with love and joy, not tears and sorrow. Our love for each other was special and endured so much. It endures this too and will forever be near to my heart and though tears will flow when they are needed, joy comes too. I leave you with this:
A friend linked this video to me. I watched it last night and while wiping tears away I felt a great comfort. I pray you do to. It tells the story of another man broken by the loss not only of his wife but his son as well and the joy and beauty that eventually broke forth why else? Because it was Christmas
Live, Give, Love
Sammy
