The Highs and Lows of the Holidays (and Life)

Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of my Dad’s passing. He was only 70 when he died. 

This past week, I also learned about the unexpected passing of two friends of mine, a childhood friend who was only 54, and a college friend who was only 52. I can’t believe they are gone.

In my experience, the end of this glorious thing called life almost always feels like it comes too soon. 

Since losing my Dad, I’ve grown and learned a lot. The biggest revelation has been that our imperfections are often what makes life so rich, our relationships so deep, and are what we miss the most.

I miss the way my Dad laughed. Often he’d laugh so hard he couldn’t catch his breath and would get a stitch in his side, making this funny, uncontrollable “ho, ho, ho” sound.

I miss how he would bite the side of his cheek when he chewed gum because of a crooked tooth, and how he’d get so mad when it happened. For some reason, though, the next time he was offered a stick of gum, he’d always try again.

I miss how he’d talk to cashiers or strangers about their families and their day, holding up the line long behind him.

I miss how he’d hide my small, cold hands between his, which always seemed to be warm, especially on freezing winter days. 

I miss how his eyes would twinkle as he told us kids a story, as we hung on every word.

I miss the way he’d say, “Laurie!” at the top of his lungs when I’d call on the phone as if it was the happiest moment ever. 

After the hearing about the death of my childhood friend this past weekend, I stood in front of the sunset and watched the colors fade as if it was the one and only sunset I would ever see. 

I hugged my kids a little tighter that night. I told my husband how much I loved him as we were drifting off to sleep. 

I didn’t worry so much about my outfit, hair or makeup being not quite the way I wanted when we went out with friends.

The truth is, we are constantly being offered miraculous gifts in each moment.

If sadness creeps in when we are feeling full and celebratory, it’s okay. If we find ourselves having inexplicable surges of joy amidst times of trouble, that’s okay too. It’s also okay if this holiday season or grief don’t look the same for each of us. 

If we look hard enough, we will find glimmers of light just waiting to be discovered. You are a miracle, just the way you are. So is this amazingly beautiful, messy, unpredictable life. I believe connecting and loving are what it’s all about. 

No matter how different we may be, we all experience loss and sadness, and have been reminded, in one way or another, how sacred life is.

If you are struggling in any way during this holiday season, please know that you are not alone. 

If you know someone who might need to hear this today, please share it.

Wishing you deep peace and miraculous moments, today and always.