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 new peer support program for people newly diagnosed with chronic or serious illness or with a new disability and their caregivers.
Patient Pals are people who have experience with various illnesses and disabilities, who can help someone newly diagnosed or with a new disability work through the fear, frustration, confusion and grief often experienced in the first few months.
Family Friends are there to help caregivers and other family members grow into their new role.
People with new illness or disability fare better when they have a role model -- someone who can help them negotiate their new path in life.
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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