Resting the Fields

It's been seven months since mom passed away. About two weeks ago, we got an invitation from the funeral home to attend a special "candle lighting ceremony". I didn't really know what to expect, but we went. What I was hoping for was a little closure. I was so busy at the time she died that I didn't spend much energy on the grieving process. I had just lost my job and was trying to figure out how to provide for my family. Over the last few months, I wished I had taken more time to grieve her. What I got out of tonight was much more.

At first I was a bit apprehensive when they started by playing a Josh Groban song over the speaker system. It felt awkward just sitting there (in the same room we said goodbye to mom in) watching everyone tear up. I could tell I was too, but I was also holding back, just like when I held her hand and watched her slip away that Monday afternoon. After that there was a very nice message from a Lutheran pastor. He didn't spend too much time on the religion of it all, but gave some very practical advice for the upcoming holidays. I appreciated it a great deal and told him as much afterward.

The part that really got to me, though, was when the funeral home staff asked each person (about 80 people) to mention briefly who they were there to remember. Our family was very close to the beginning and we mentioned "Grandma Rose" and "Mom". As the rest of the room continued, I really felt it. The loss. Right along with all those other folks and their losses. We were all in this together. And we would all survive. Many had lost mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, brothers and sisters as well as friends. One little girl caught my attention when she said, just loud enough to hear across the room, "my daddy".

After that, four candles were lit representing different things which I can't remember. From one of those a single candle was lit. Everyone in the room began to pass the light along as we each lit our own candle in memory of our departed loved ones.

One of the things I took from the evening was that Christmas doesn't have to be the same each year. There are some years where we may not be up to the "hoopla" of it all. I remember in 1984 my dad died on Christmas eve. That was one of those years, but I was just in complete shock through the holidays. This year is one of those years too. But I've had seven months to think about it.

Forgive me if I'm just a bit less festive this year. My "fields" will be resting this holiday season. And from those fields will spring new hope and holiday spirit for my remaining years, God willing.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.
J