Every Time a Bell Rings an Angel Gets Its Wings

Whenever I sit down to write a blog, the first thing I usually do is try and think of a catchy title. It really helps me narrow my direction for what I want to say. A witty or pun-ey title also provides a creative way for me to tie it in at the end and wrap up that week’s depressing rant in a (somewhat) positive note.

When I sat down this afternoon, the first thought that came to my mind was a sad spin on a Christmas classic – turning a joyful tune into a sad statement only those living with grief can understand.

It’s the Most Depressing Time of the Year

Because honestly, it is. I read a ton of articles about processing and dealing with grief during the holidays. I scrolled and scrolled through Google searches, desperately trying to find someone else out there who I could relate to, whose pain felt just as fucking awful as mine did. I didn’t stumble upon any advice that helped. There were no secret tricks or magic potions to make the holidays less painful or the sadness more sufferable. I did, however, find one statement that I felt perfectly summed up what I was feeling (just no hints as to how to deal with it.)

“If you’re dealing with grief – namely the loss of a loved one - the holiday season can become a barrage of painful reminders that your life isn’t what you hoped. Surrounded by holiday joy and cheer, you may feel overwhelmed by a calendar full of traditions that remind you of your loss, or pressured by how you think you “should” feel, or perhaps tempted to numb the pain.”

Ok, I lied. The article did give me one useful tip…

Drink wine = numb the pain.
But! Drink champagne = numb the pain with a little more pep in your step

Our family (and extended family and friends that have become family) experienced a lot of firsts this year. These firsts changed the course of our lives, but not in an "open your eyes" or "see the world in a beautiful new kind of light" way. They were not exciting or exhilarating but rather dreaded and barely endured.

It’s now December 29, and I can say that despite a massive amount of tears and hugs and sadness… we survived. We somehow made it through our first Thanksgiving, our first “month of Terri,” our first Terri’s Birthday day, and our first Christmas Eve and Christmas day without mom. It wasn’t easy, and there were moments where the heartache was magnified, but we made it through.

Thanksgiving was spent in Indiana – with family and friends and Topgolf and an efffff ton of food and booze. I think being away from home helped ease the emptiness we all felt without mom, but we still talked about her every chance we got. It was a perfect weekend considering, and I know she would have loved it.

Mom’s birthday was brutal; I’m not going to lie. December 17 was probably one of her top three favorite days of the year, and not being able to call her just felt cruel and unfair. And to process the unfairness of it all, I stayed home and slept and cried and then slept again. You can read more about it here. But I also started a new birthday tradition – I bought her a card, I enjoyed a few glasses of her favorite wine, and I celebrated the amazing person she was.  

And then… just like that… Christmas was here.

Mom has been gone for almost a year, 322 days to be exact (yes, I am still counting), but when we pulled up to the house last Sunday, it just didn’t seem possible that she wasn’t inside. She must have stood at the top of those stairs hundreds of times waiting for me, so when I envisioned her standing there a week ago, it didn’t feel like a memory. It seemed perfectly reasonable that she would be there just like she had been every year before. And I knowwwwww you’re all reading this and wanting to tell me that she was “there” – but for a brief moment, it felt like she was just on some other plane of existence. If only I stood there long enough or wished hard enough, I could slip through space and time and hug her once more.

But I couldn’t – luckily, dad was there with a big hug all his own. ❤️ We spent five days together – laughing, staying busy, and avoiding the massive elephant in the room. Mom would have hated that I just called her an elephant. Let me rewrite that…“we avoided the flamingo in the room.” After all, just like mom flamingos are beautiful, they mate for life, and they have roughly the same size legs that she did. 🦩

Christmas without mom felt like watching the Packers without Aaron Rogers. All of the players were there, but we were missing our MVP. Also – I may or may not be watching the game right now and this was the best analogy I could come up with. She was everywhere, but her absence was heavy, and I felt stretched beyond repair – smiling, laughing, heart-faced emoji replying when all I really wanted to do was sit in her closet and cry. Mom WAS Christmas – especially Christmas eve, so how were we supposed to keep playing when our most important player is on the permanent IR list? We make new traditions while keeping her as close to our heart as we can – that’s how.

Christmas Eve was spent with Hailee’s amazing family – in what I hope will be a continued tradition. We still held on to some old ones like having plenty of shrimp, champagne, and eggnog, while celebrating it in a different place and in a different way. We did a white elephant exchange where dad and I cleverly included some of mom’s most *priceless* items (sorry Andrew) and played games until we were all laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe. And for a brief moment, we all forgot how much we missed the ones we have lost.

On Christmas Day, we hosted 30+ people at dad’s house, a tradition that I was determined to keep going. Christmas has ALWAYS been on Beaufort Drive, and that was the only way I felt like I could truly keep mom alive.  In a house that she decorated, on a street that she grew up in, and with the people she loved most, our “crazy, dysfunctional, hate you but love you long time” family put everything aside and celebrated Christmas the way it should be. We finished eight bottles of champagne before dinner, the shrimp dip was gone within an hour, and (per usual) one of the dishes was undercooked. BUT. There was love, there was laughter, and there was mom. She would have loved it.

So, like I said… we survived. Barely, but we made it. Today I was looking through my phone and realized I had a lot of photos from the last six weeks that make me smile, despite all of the pain my heart feels. There were nights with friends that ended in dance parties at empty bars, there were evenings (4:30 p.m. cough) that ended with coworkers and pickleback shots and promises of nights to come. There was time enjoyed with family, days spent with friends, adventures with my PIC, and snuggles with THE TWO CUTEST four-legged friends I could have ever wished for.

Long (and semi-drunk) story short, “we can become so used to the pain that when happiness finds us, we don’t trust it.” There were a lot of really, really bad firsts these last few months. But there were also smiles and laughter and happy tears. I continue to realize that no matter how much I miss mom, no matter how bad her loss hurts, I still have to find a way to move on. It’s my only option. But I am lucky to have family and extended family and friends that have become family to help me do that.

So, here is my concluding statement which is where I usually tie in my witty title.

Except I have no way to connect my title to this story.

BUT! #DYK (‘did you know’ for all you baby boomers and gen x-ers) that mom’s favorite Christmas movie was It’s A Wonderful Life? And that “every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings” is 100% absolutely the best line from that movie? Plus, next to Clarence, mom is now the OG (original gangster you boomers) of angels and totally already has her wings… but to be sure, we left out a bell just in case.

“Strange, isn't it? Each (wo)man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't (s)he?” ~It’s a Wonderful Life