Just before Christmas in the year that my sister, Cindy James, died, my mom wrote to me that two of my three brothers would be with my parents on the 26th of December. (I was living in Whitehorse, Canada—far away from all 6 immediate family members.) And my sister, Marlene, who lived back east, wrote that she would be together with my other brother, Roger, and his family during the holidays.
I hated being so far away from everyone and felt it would be a shitty Christmas especially since my hubby would be working the evening and overnight shifts on the 24th, 25th and 26th.
I couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit. Without family or kids around, it was hard to get excited.
I really felt lonely and missed Cindy terribly.
Mom wrote that we could all drink a toast to Cindy at the Christmas dinner and said, “I know we all miss her very, very much. She took a part of all of us with her.”
But despite my apprehensions about how that Christmas would be without Cindy, I had a marvelous time (I had to really put out an effort though!):
I slept in until 11:30am (maybe that was my way of trying to avoid the whole Christmas thing) and 25 minutes later Roger phoned. He helped me to let go of some of the pain about losing Cindy and encouraged me to try and enjoy my life again.
But by the afternoon, while my hubby was sleeping, I was crying. Later, before he had to go to work, I dried my tears and we played crib while we listened to music and sipped spiked tea. I prepared a delicious turkey meal and we ate with our fancy dishes—on Cindy’s tablecloth (it was important for me to have something of Cindy’s to use in the celebrations so I would feel close to her). We also had a good bottle of wine (and a toast to Cindy).
The tree lights were on.
A wonderful fire was going in the fireplace.
The whole thing just felt so special.
Don’t get me wrong—I missed Cindy terribly, but I was thankful for what I still had.
Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My Friend
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