We've now entered Advent--- as it's called in the Christian Calendar, that time of waiting for the birth of the Messiah. And for others, who may not be steeped in the Christian tradition but celebrate the season, it's also a special time of memories and meaning. As much as popular and traditional songs celebrate this being "the most wonderful time of the year," it's not just that; loss and longing can be just as much a part of the holidays as "tidings of comfort and joy." We all have losses, whether recent or long ago, that seem especially poignant this time of year. My Christmas decorations hold many reminders of those people and those phases of my life that I remember with longing, wishing I could go back in time.
Last week, I shared about my growing uneasiness about my relationship with the man I'd been dating for the past nine months. On Sunday afternoon, he and I talked and decided it was time to end things--- both of us seeing a need to move on. While it was not an easy conversation, it goes much better if both people are at the same place. That would be true, as well, if it were the loss of a job or a friendship; when both parties recognize it's time to move forward in a different way-- then both are free to see it as a natural part of life; there are times of building up and times of tearing down.
Part of me was ready to move forward; but what I minimized, which is easy to do when you are trying to make a hard decision, is that no matter if it's the right decision, it still results in a loss; something has ended that was meaningful and has memories. The pattern we'd gotten into in our relationship, the typical weekend plans, the music we shared, the favorite restaurants-- are no longer; and there's nothing there right now to take their place; and there shouldn't be. To jump ahead to a new relationship, new activities, without dealing with the loss of what had been built up over time, would be to deny the impact of a meaningful relationship.
In my past, with a relationship that was on-and-off over a seven month period, my therapist had to remind me when it ended that I was in a period of mourning. I'd wanted to just move on without experiencing the pain of loss-- even with it being for the best. This week, when I felt myself moping, realizing more of what I'd given up, I avoided listening to some of our favorite songs. But then I remembered that with the other relationship I'd lost, I knew that sometimes it helped to listen to the songs, remember and feel the loss and longing, and not just deal with it by avoiding; sometimes you had to sit with the feelings and let yourself grieve so that eventually you could move on.
Last week, during a night when it was difficult to sleep, Alexa was benevolent; she played an artist I'd never heard--one in that musical algorithm of "other songs you'd probably like." The artist was Amos Lee. His song, "Windows Are Rolled Down" had lines that related to how I was feeling that 3:30 a.m. : "I hope for you to get through this rain" " Think it's time for me to go" " Is it what you dreamed it'd be?" "Are you locked in a fantasy?" He had other songs I liked. It was as if I was forming a new playlist for this period of my life--one that had no history from the relationship I was grieving.
While I'm talking of losing a romantic relationship, there are other losses that may be especially tender during the holidays. I look about my house and see reminders everywhere of people I've lost over the years--- relatives that have gone on before me. They are present in the oldest ornaments on my tree, the recipes for favorite holiday cookies, and in beloved songs of the holidays. Hearing the tunes sung by Bing Crosby from my parents' era reminds me of my childhood and how the days before Christmas unfolded in our household. I think of how Daddy loved Christmas and Mama worked so hard getting ready.
Yesterday, I had the joy of making Christmas cookies with my grandsons. I hope they'll always associate the smell of gingerbread cookies, the feel of rolling out dough, the taste of warm cookies with milk with special days with their Grammy. One day, I won't be present with them and they'll hopefully experience that longing for past days--which says we had a special bond; now it's "time to build" our relationship.
I have this framed Celtic print of Ecclesiastes 3 sitting next to my nativity set. It's a reminder of the natural flow of life, and calms me down when I want things to be different.
Whether it's a romantic relationship, friendship, relative etc there are times to build and times to tear down; each is necessary. At Christmas, as well as every other time of year, life can be a challenge in holding onto opposites at the same time; we feel joy and we feel pain; both are true.
Blessings to you as you move into the richness of this season.
Connie
No comments:
Post a Comment