Seasons Greetings and Peace for the Holidays

Dear Readers,

It's the time of year when our lives should, and often are, filled with joy, cheer and the remembrance of celebrations past and hopefulness for those yet to come.

If you've lost someone, however, the holidays can be a solemn reminder of how much you miss someone whose now-empty shoes can never be filled. Sparkling lights and sacred music that once filled your heart with warm wishes might trigger unexpected feelings of loneliness.

You're not alone.

Believe me, I know what it feels like to stand in a store during Father's Day sales and be barraged with gift ideas for a dad I buried less than two years ago. It seems sort of empty looking at the ties and shirts and rows of cards that scream to be noticed when I would much prefer to look away, not to think about how I nearly missed seeing my dad on the last Father's Day he was able to recognize my presence. I didn't know at the time he was beginning to succomb to Alzheimer's disease. It was storming with buckets of rain driven by strong winds, as it often does in Arizona during June, and visiting my father before returning home to Tucson would mean braving the storm from my then-boyfriend's condo in Tempe to my parents' home in west Phoenix. On top of that, my windshield wipers were useless, having been melted to my windshield by the hot Arizona sun since the last time I was out in such a storm.

It was dark, late and rainy.

It seemed so much easier to just call and explain why I would mail his card on Monday and drop by his gift sometime in the near future.

My then-boyfriend, however, insisted that I go see my father. He always had a way of putting family first and was not about to let me do anything less.

He'll never know how grateful I am for his advice that night, when I stood at an auto parts store line that seemed to snake completely through the aisles with customers desperate to replace melted windshield wipers. Once I had them in hand, the battle began against Mother Nature's silver dollar-sized rain drops and the latches that did not want to cooperate on both the old wipers and the new ones. I was not in much of a mood for celebration by the time I reached my parents' home where my father spent most of the time on the phone with my sister who lives in town while I was there visting after having braved the storm -- with a drive home more than 100 miles ahead of me, to boot.

It just didn't seem fair for him to ignore me when I was there in person, and he could chat with my sister on the phone any time.

I wish I had known then that it would be the last time I would be able to wish my dad "Happy Father's Day" in person. I might have been more patient. My then-boyfriend was not my boyfriend by the time fall came around and we learned shortly before Thanksgiving that my father's odd behavior was related to a disease that would forever steal him from my life before taking his. He'll never know that his encouragement to face the storm meant the difference between having one last memory of sharing Father's Day with my dad, even if it wasn't the Norman Rockwell picture-perfect visit.

At Christmastime, oddly enough, is when I most miss the former romantic figure of my life. He knows who he is, so I shall not name names. I did not lose him to a disease but rather to indifference as our once-happy relationship slipped away.

The last time we saw each other, even after separating, was to exchange Christmas wishes and gifts over a holiday dinner shared halfway between my home in Tucson and his parents' home in the greater Phoenix/Mesa metro area he was visting during a brief break from the graduate school he was attending on the East Coast.

Maybe that is why it's Christmastime when I remember how things used to be, and wish that in some small way we had been able to work through the issues that made staying together impossible.

Then again, we've each moved on and found our own version of happiness. So maybe I should be looking at Christmas as a time for new beginnings instead of focusing on what once was that is now lost.

After all, I have the most wonderful children, most of whom are now grown and successfully independent. My life is good. I truly can't complain. I own a beautiful home in a neighborhood where I never dreamed I'd be able to live. I finally can drive the cute sports car I've always wanted now that I don't need a huge SUV or minivan to tote around the family. I have childhood memories of Christmases past and a mother and siblings still around, albeit spread from here to Colorado, Florida and South Carolina. I have aunts and uncles and cousins from Utah to Illinois and points in-between. My friends, while not many (I don't seem to have the time to devote to much outside of my family and work) are the best I could imagine. They, too, know who they are.

In short, I don't think there is a single thing about my life I would change (with the obvious exceptions that if diseases could all be cured and the world could enjoy peace on earth).

So, as difficult as it sometimes seems, I am choosing to focus on the better part when the feelings of loneliness come knocking on my door this holiday season. My wish for each of you is that you are able to do the same.

May God, however you worship Him, bless you with the deepest desires of your hearts this festive season. May you find comfort in what you have when feelings of what you've lost try to overshadow the good.

Always,
RuthAnn