Quantcast
Blog Post
Four Christmases

I wrote this on Christmas Eve.  I go through times where I’m reluctant to share my work. I looked over the scattered pieces below this morning and let go of fearing exposure.  May these words find their way to another mother or father struggling with loss and direct their minds to healing.  

 

December 24th, 2017

 

I don’t know what it feels like to be someone else.  Tonight though I wonder.  There’s a threshold between the selfless and selfish.  I mean, we all have to be selfish to survive right?  I think about my father.  He told me a couple days ago he’s been divorced now eight years.  Seems like yesterday to him.  My wife and I lost our son going on four years ago now.  We’ve been clearing out the old to make room for the new lately and have noticed the lapse in time since his untimely passing.  Our life unchecked is full of time capsules thick with dust.  You never really move on by the way.  One cannot fully understand the depths of grief unless they lose a child.  I pray that never happens to anyone.  His name was Christopher and this may be the hardest day yet for me.  

 

I wonder this Christmas Eve what is life really worth in the end without a dream?  What does one live for and of what value is an existence without something to pass on.  Certainly there’s always something passed on whether deemed bad or good.  

 

I cut quite a bit of length off my hair the other day and used some royal crown hair dressing to slick it back.  For a blink of an eye I saw my father’s father.  My grandpa Floyd was a firecracker.  Long and lean with black hair and a gold tooth. He fancied gold rings, Cadillacs and cards. He always lived life on his terms.  Even on his way out.  

 

We are who we are by eternal design and in that we must respect our parents for the gift of life.  As I start to notice years passing faster I feel a deeper love and connection to those close to me and little want for the material things or loose relationships of this world.  

 

In every dream there are choices.  I made many I’d consider the wrong choice but, I’ve been so lucky to survive.  I have to be strong.  Just as much as when the unthinkable happened as where I am today.  I feel like I slip sometimes.  That’s where grace abides.  Explainable in hindsight.  These days I usually find my way back to gratitude but, tonight I don’t feel deserving.  I know that the victim state every human feels from time to time is the ultimate illusion.  It’s the story of the garden of Eden.  Where man forgot.  Even writing this scattered piece I feel the healing begin.  I feel knots loosen and weight lifting from my chest.  When I’m sad I need reminding.  Thank you to the one who came before me.  Without the Christ I don’t believe I could’ve made it here today.  Merry Christmas dear reader, you are love, you are loved, and love created you like itself.   

 

 

 

Blog Index

Down in the Flood
    posted 2018-04-21

Seashells & Blacktop
    posted 2018-04-01

January 1st, 2018
    posted 2018-01-01

Four Christmases
    posted 2017-12-26

Faith Is The Middle Road
    posted 2017-12-04

White River Golden Eagle
    posted 2017-11-30

Wild Birds and Fence Rows
    posted 2017-11-29

The Current
    posted 2017-11-28