Winter Solstice
If you are new to this site take the time and go back through the posts and read Maples and Last Hurrah before continuing on with this one.
The winter season is marked by cold temperatures as well as the shortening of day light hours and the lengthening of nights. This winter, for me, has been filled with some very dark days both figuratively and literally. Of course the cold and the shortening of days is part nature’s cycle but this season has also extinguished light from my life. My Dad’s health steadily declined after his last hurrah of Thanksgiving and as the days shortened so did his breath. He rapidly slowed until he stopped. The darkness enveloped all who love him and just as the winter winds numbed our hands, the loss of him numbed our hearts.
Dad’s light gradually dimmed until it was permanently extinguished on December 11. Although he was prepared and perhaps even welcoming of death, I, on the other hand was not. Mentally I bolstered myself with the knowledge that this was the only outcome to his 3 year battle with cancer. I expressed gratitude for the additional time I had with him and for his lack of suffering during his succumbing to an incurable disease. I even worked diligently to makes sure his affairs were in order so that what came after was not as difficult as the before, all the while feeling more like a predator hunting wounded prey than a loving daughter helping her ailing father. I found the whole process to be debilitating as the pressure over what needed to be done vs what I wanted to do slowly rendered my neck stiff and sore. I was honored that he entrusted me with the responsibility and took great pride in knowing that he respected me and my abilities enough to carry out his last requests. But part of me wishes I could have spent more time during those final weeks worrying less about his affairs and more about him. It would have been nice to spend his lucid moments reminiscing instead making sure every I was dotted and T was crossed. But he, in his usual protective dad way, kept telling me that he wasn’t going anywhere until he was no longer able to utter an audible word.
During the days that followed my mood darkened. In a whirlwind of planning and commiserating I was lost in a storm of emotion that threatened to bury my joy along with the remains of my father. That’s the painful part of losing someone you love more than you love yourself. What you feel is so great that you refuse to feel at all. You become numb, frozen in the moment, unable to see light that awaits behind the veil of darkness. Fortunately for me glimmers of light were breaking through from all directions. I just had to allow myself to open up to the love that was filling my life during the saddest of times.
The winter solstice’s arrival on December 21st was just the trigger I needed to snap me out of my dreary mood. The reversal of the gradual lengthening of nights and shortening of the days reminded me that these feelings are fleeting. I don’t need to fight them or be distressed by them. I need to allow them and make room for them because what I am feeling is only natural. And just as the days will slowly get longer so will my mood improve. I was reminded that light does return albeit in small increments. Darkness isn’t forever but it is necessary. It allows us to rest and reflect, taking stock of what is truly important until we are ready to return to the lighter brighter aspects of our lives.
I was able to consider all the light that is still in my life – all the love I received from family and friends while processing my emotions. My husband stayed home from work so I could grieve without having to be responsible for the children. Family members from around the country traveled in to celebrate the life of a man who meant so much to them. My friends, both near and far, were present and selfless. One brought me clothes to wear for the services because I was in no mood to shop. Others sent food that was much appreciated by my wards. Quite a few came to the services to pay their respects and show their sympathy; some of which I’ve known since I was younger than my daughter. Another traveled for hours to come spend time with me at home while I tried desperately to get myself back into the rhythm of my life. Her company and laughter were exactly what I needed to lift my spirits. And when I thought I could not receive more love, a package arrived just for me with the intent to brighten my mood – flowers and chocolate covered strawberries- a gesture only a certain former bubbly roommate would think of.
A week after burying my father we celebrated Christmas, the first of many without him, and he was sorely missed. It was a half-hearted, last minute affair but it was wonderful nonetheless. We managed to decorate our glorious reduced price tree and bake some sugar cookies just in time for Santa’s arrival. The stockings were never hung but no one complained. The few gifts we did procure got wrapped and bagged in trimmings left over from last year. The four of us relaxed our day away enjoying the smell of pine and the heat of the wood stove. There was no need to rush about this year because he wasn’t going to be anywhere other than in my heart.
As I wind down from the past two weeks of mourning and celebration I am left feeling depleted. My usual routine of early to rise and getting things done has been replaced by sleeping in and not wanting to do anything. Fortunately winter break has given me the opportunity to indulge in this behavior. I have a list of tasks that need to be handled but I’d rather ignore it than tackle it. Mass cards still sit piled high unopened and unread. Necessary appointments still remain unscheduled. Phone calls go unreturned. Today, as I am typing, I am finally shedding tears, falling from my eyes like a salty deluge, after weeks of barely a trickle. And then it hit me. The last time I had gone this long without seeing my Dad was 21 years ago when I was off exploring Europe with my college roommate. Even my little one started crying. When I asked why, she responded with only one word, “Grandpa”. She’s never gone this long without seeing him and it finally struck her that she will never see him again.
The solstice has passed and the days are gradually getting longer. I look out at the dying Maple’s silhouette, dark against the white winter sky, and I accept that all of life’s wonders are temporary. Next year only a scarred lawn and photographs will prove its existence but the house will be warmed for years to come. Similarly, my Dad is gone only in the physical sense and with him a piece of my heart. I know in time it will heal as I recall and retell all the heart-warming stories that will turn the man into a legend. I also know from experience that the love and laughter will continue to grow and he’ll never truly be gone as long as we continue to share the good times. Just as the Maple had dropped numerous samaras which will germinate and sprout, Dad had not departed this earth without leaving a legacy – children and grand-children that boast both his knowledge and his nose and numerous tales that we have all either heard or witnessed – and that alone is reason to rejoice.
