My goal this Christmas was to make things as joyful as I could for my other kids. I knew they were hurting, and felt the same anxiety about Christmas as I did. Somehow, I felt I needed to lead them through the holidays...even though I didn't know how I would survive them myself. I suppose that is the job of a mother...to stand strong and lead the way, no matter how much you wish you could run and hide. No matter how much your heart is hurting, or how unsure you are of which direction it is you need to move...as a mother, you must find a way. They needed me, their needs matter so much more then my own, and that is where I found my strength....it came from the love I have for my kids who are still here with me, as well as the love I have for Ryan. I am certain that Ryan knew I would find my strength from this very love. I also know he was proud of my efforts...which matters more then I can say.
We had a very special time with the kids. We were all painfully feeling Ryan's absence, but together, we made it through. I got them all Vision Memory Blankets, which had pictures of each of them with Ryan, on their individual blankets. I knew in my heart I needed to give them a piece of Ryan this year, so I spent hours putting these blankets together, and addressed it to each of them from Ryan and me. They were all very touched, and I know the blankets meant the world to them. My instincts were right...they needed a piece of Ryan this Christmas. Throughout the evening we laughed some, we cried some, we talked of Ryan a lot. We brought him into this home with us...right where he belongs. And...we missed him deeply.
We spent time with the Pyzers and Beebouts, as well as time on our own. Some family members shared their concern with words, a look, or a touch...gently letting me know they knew this was hard and they were there. Some spoke not a word, nor showed any signs of reaching out. To those who dared to address the sadness, no matter how uncomfortable it may have been for them, I am grateful. With their words and/or gestures, not only did they show me that my broken heart, and the hearts of my husband and children mattered...they let me know Ryan was still a part of Christmas. I needed to know that...my entire family needed that. When my mom arrived, she walked in the door and handed me a small, artificial poinsettia to put under Ryan's tree. This was one of the greatest gifts I was given this Christmas. Some may ask...what was the big deal with that? Well, it was a very big deal to me. What it told me was she cared about my heart, she understood I was carrying an unspeakable sadness within, and she knew how important it was to bring Ryan into this Christmas somehow. She knew what Ryan's tree meant to me, so she added to it. What greater gift could anyone ever give a mother grieving the loss of her child? I will keep that poinsettia forever, and each year when I put his tree out, that plant will sit under it...reminding me of the incredible gesture of love she gave to me, to Ryan, and my entire family that first Christmas.
Since Christmas, I have felt numb. Some tears, at the most unexpected times, but for the most part... very numb. Perhaps this is a way to shield myself from the magnified sadness surrounding the holidays? Perhaps a way to protect my heart from the pain I don't know how to deal with? Perhaps a way to survive the remainder of these dreaded holidays? Perhaps a way to process how these first holidays were without Ryan here with us? Whatever the reason, I am almost grateful for the numbness. I'm sure it's part of the grieving process, and won't last for long, but immediately following this First Christmas...I welcome the numbness.
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