This year I’m having so many mixed emotions about the Holidays. I’m sad on many levels, but happy on many others. It’s this weird dichotomy of nostalgia and anticipation of things to come and maybe it’s the things to come that have me feeling nostalgic.
In February, it will have been eighteen years since my father passed away, yet this year, I find myself missing him terribly. Every year at Christmas, he would write his own version of the Christmas story and we’d sit around, drinking hot chocolate on Christmas Eve, and listen to him as he read it to us. The thing that made this so precious, was because reading and writing were extremely difficult for my father. He was severely dyslexic, so even though he had a brilliant creative side, writing, then reading his story each year was truly a labor of love.
So many great things are happening in our business – we’re on the verge of something huge if it works the way we’re working for. We’re working on putting a baby in my belly – our goal is four (not all at once! Though I’d love to have twins, Mr. Robinson wants to start with one). My writing has become more known and my books are selling fairly well. Those are big things, but there are all the little, everyday things too. I wish my father was here. I wish he could see me and I could talk to him and share all of this with him. Even though I believe he’s in heaven, believe he’s with me in spirit, it’s not the same. I never had the opportunity to know my husband's father, but he tells me we would get along like two peas in a pod, that he would love me like I was his own daughter. There are so many things I want to ask these two men who I'll never know in my adult years, so many things I want to tell them and share with them, but that's not an opportunity I'll ever have. I feel the loss of it as deeply as anything else.
As we work toward children, I think of the ones in heaven – the one I aborted as a terrified, traumatized young adult, the one I miscarried at eight weeks not so long ago. I think about these children and how they might be in heaven, playing with my father, my grandfathers, my grandmother, my uncles. I think about my grandmother – at the grand age of 91 – and the fact that she may not be around at this time next year and I become teary-eyed. My heart hurts, even as it is full of joy.
Life is full of loss and heartache. I know this. I’ve lived this. But life is also about moments that carry us through the times of heartache. My husband is the most incredible person I know and he’s the one whose face I see every morning and think, “I am so blessed.”
My sister and I are very close and she and my husband are very close, truly, he is more a brother to her than our own biological brother. So, I have these special relationships, and within these relationships, moments occur that bring a smile to my face and joy to my heart. I am blessed, truly blessed beyond measure to have people in my life who love me, who I love and am able to trust. We have a roof over our head, food in our bellies, and don’t fear the bills getting paid from one month to the next. I am so blessed.
I am also sad. Sad because I feel the pain of loss. Sad because I feel the pain of scars that run jagged and deep.
And that’s okay.
It’s okay for me to curl up in my husband’s arms and have a solid cry – because that’s one of the things he’s there for. Part of his job as my husband is to comfort me when I need comfort and he does so with empathy and a strength that revives my weary soul.
I won’t stay sad, but I’m sad in this moment. And that’s okay. I can reach out for support and comfort - And I do. That’s the thing I’m most grateful for this year. With everything happening in our lives, my husband and I lean into each other – for comfort, for joy, for encouragement, for pleasure, for fun, for everything. That’s the best gift I could hope for (except maybe a baby. That would be a great gift too!).
If you’re reading this and feeling down this season, lean into those around you whom you trust and are comfortable with. As humans, our greatest joy is sometimes in lifting another, so let those who want to be there for you, be there for you. If you need a hug, or a cry, or someone to do a silly happy dance with, ask for it.
Be vulnerable and let the good people in your life show up. Give the important person or people in your life a chance to be what you need them to be in this moment. And if you’re overjoyed and have amazing things happening and your heart is overflowing – share that too, shout it from the rooftops and let us do your happy dance with you.
Thank you for reading. Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, and wishes for a life of abundance in every area of your life in 2018.
© 2017-2018 Hey, Mrs. Robinson | T.J Robinson