This year is, of course, our first Christmas without Hugh. The world is going on as if everything is the same. The same parties, the same church traditions, the same hurried shopping and decorating. But everything is not the same. Things are radically different. The Broadmeadow Choir gave its annual Christmas performance and Hugh was not there sitting with Camille and Susannah and grinning broadly in enjoyment. Camille, who has not been back to church very much since Hugh died, cried because he was not there.
Tonight, Camille and Susannah and I continued the tradition of decorating the Christmas tree and the mantle and celebrating with a meal of Chinese takeout. But it felt hollow. And, the Christmas tree I bought, a little "elf tree" about four feet tall, would not stay secure in its stand. When we got it loaded with lights and ornaments, it toppled over breaking a delicate ballerina and a Snowbaby, ornaments I have given to Camille and Susannah through the years. I made the rounds from Target to Home Depot to Wal-Mart to find a suitable tree stand. I found one at Wal-Mart that is designed for a larger tree, but that I hope will suffice to keep our "elf tree" secure. The problem at this point is that the giant screws are so hard to turn that I cannot get it tight enough to even attempt to put the tree in it. I can't help thinking, "If Hugh were here this wouldn't be happening. We would have a full sized tree. It would be glowing with lights and covered with ornaments representing each year of our lives." But he is not here, and I am experiencing anger for the first time in this season of loss.
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross writes that our grief comes in stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Those stages don't seem to occur in any particular order and sometimes they seem to fade in and out. But, for me, anger is new. Until now, I have resolutely set about meeting the challenges of doing the things that Hugh has done even when I felt poorly equipped to do it. I've taken a perverse pleasure in being strong enough and stubborn enough to do whatever has to be done. But I don't want to celebrate Christmas without Hugh. I don't want to do this by myself and I am angry that I have to do it.
Despite my resistance, we will celebrate Christmas. There will be new experiences that take us beyond our usual traditions. The week before Christmas, we are going on a Caribbean cruise with my parents, who will be celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. On Christmas Day, we will celebrate by having an open house and entertaining friends. But we will continue some of our old traditions such as Chinese takeout and tree-trimming, hanging the stockings and the Christmas Eve service at Broadmeadow. We have hung Hugh's stocking this year, as part of our old tradition, but I hope that our new tradition will be to fill that stocking with good memories of the Christmases we shared with Hugh, of Christmas mornings surveying the riches that Santa Claus brought and the wonderful Christmas dinners he cooked. Those memories will sustain us for a long time to come.
