Through the lens of grief
This is not the Christmas I expected, even a week ago. My stepbrother, Scott Phipps, died in a single-car accident Monday night, so I’m having to plan a trip to Pennsylvania for his funeral service and the family gathering that will follow.
I don’t know how Rose will make it through the day. I know she is surrounded by family and friends, though, so she will have comfort and be encouraged to remember the good things about Scott — and there are a lot of good things to remember. He was one of the most joy-filled people I have ever met, deeply spiritual and very funny.
When Mike died, Scott e-mailed me simple, eloquent prayers. “I prayed this today …” The last time we were together, he, Rose and I stood in his kitchen and sang old Baptist hymns in three-part harmony.
So, Christmas is not as usual this year. Grief experts say to change things up a bit. So, I’m not cooking a turkey; instead we’re doing a ham. I made a pear tart for dessert instead of a chocolate cream pie. There will be no bread stuffing.
As we do every year, we went to the 11 p.m. Christmas Eve service last light, and just as midnight came, we were holding our candles lifted high and siniging the third verse of “Silent Night.”
The pastor’s sermon was on each of us finding the meaning of Christmas. He talked about going out and spending $20 on gifts for people he only sees once a year, and the futility of that act. Gifts should be from the heart, he said.
Mike always liked handmade things, and the gifts Janet and I exchange are mostly handmade, since we both have some talent for such things.
But what about Christmas? What about its meaning? How does one find Christmas after the loss of a son and a brother?
Joe actually used that example in his sermon.
It was then I realized what Christmas is — and Hanukkah and the Winter Solstice. It is a light that never goes out, even on the longest night. It’s that miracle of never having to be totally in the dark.
So, this year, I celebrate Christmas in a different way, with the knowledge that the light is always on for me, even when I can’t see it.
Patient Pals & Family Friends
Life o' Mike has a peer support program for people with one or more serious or chronic medical issues or disabilities.
We aim to reduce isolation and fear among people who have conditions, including psychiatric illness, HIV/AIDS, diabetes, mild dementia or other cognitive disorder or disability, thereby reducing depression and complications as people learn to improve self-management of their medical conditions.
Patient Pals help alleviate feelings of isolation and frustration. They can help people develop a list of questions to ask the doctor and then accompany the person to the doctor to make sure all the questions are answered, taking notes to be sure the person understands the doctor’s answers.
Our trained volunteers also accompany their “Pals” to art exhibits, movies and walks outdoors, meet for coffee, call to check in and more.
Our Pals have experienced weight loss, improvement in diabetes, HIV, psoriasis, depression and more, just because they have someone who cares about them. Some relationships develop into longer-term friendships; other Pals move on to more independent lives.
Family Friends are there to help caregivers and other family members grow into their new role.
We need volunteers, who are asked to donate a minimum of one hour a week. Training is free and includes information on active listening, ways to help and when to know more help is needed.
And of course, we need funding.
To learn more, call Leslie Boyd at 828-243-6712 or e-mail lifeomike@gmail.com.
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