Ornaments and Joan

The holidays bring out the good tidings, precious memories, and still break my heart. I remind myself hourly, that I am not the only mother in the world to lose a child. Yet, I feel alone in my loss. Breaking the tape on the boxes of ornaments for Christmas, takes me to ground level, spread eagle, once again. I know the pain will pour out of me, and I am never ready. I am a Christmas ornament hoarder, each one touching my heart. Things that my little children made, squeezing my heart oh so tight. With the loss of a child, their things become a reminder of when they were with us, and what might have been. I do know ornaments do not smell, you see I have tried. Ward's St. Andrews duck from pre-school, no smell. His clay gingerbread man from first grade, without odor but a fingerprint, that I held to my face. His little red sled with the name "Thomas" on it, was the year he wanted his name changed. A tissue paper angel that I have rubbed the glitter off of her wings. Each child with an array of things to adorn the tree, thrill me, and take me to that 'mothers' place. Ward's mementos, his "things", keep him close, fully present in our lives. All these things add up to reminding us of what we have lost. It is the grief tightrope that I try to balance, some times it wins!!! When we lose that sense of the possible, even a tree seems without decorations, no lights. Sometimes I just step in with both feet, like decorating our tree and reading Joan Didions book, Blue Nights, at the same time. A story about the loss of her daughter. A mother who knows my heart. Who like me, knows memory fades, until we bring out the Christmas decorations, and we adjust. Thank you Joan for sharing your story, and letting me borrow some words. Thank you mom for teaching me to hang onto my babies stuff. Thank you Emily for sending me Adrian's artwork to hang on our tree last year, it has no smell, but I kissed it and hung it with joy!!!!