The holidays can be a depressing time of the year for those who have recently lost a loved one. I know that all too well.
Christmas 1995, was the most depressing Christmas of my life (to date). My mother, Leah, was killed in a car accident on December 16th. The depression from which I suffered was a combination of shock (“My mother – what? – died in a car accident”) and emptiness (“Where is my mother? What does it mean she is gone?”) I was numb.
Disbelief replaced dancing sugar plums. Grief served itself up as the main ingredient of our holiday meal. Throughout this period of time I had yet to come to the realization that my mother had not died, she had merely changed form. What I did not know was that her presence continued to fill every corner of our house, and every inch of my heart.
I missed her so acutely; I was unable to ‘see’ her. (It is an amazing realization to learn that once you stop ‘looking’ for them, you ‘see’ them.) In retrospect, she was everywhere.
She was the intricate design of each unique snowflake, the melody within the meaningful songs, such as; ‘Have a Holly Jolly Christmas’ and ‘Let There Be Peace on Earth’. She was the Christmas pumpkin bread which I baked in her memory, and the star on top of our Christmas tree. Her loved flowed through every cell of my being and through every cell of every being that knew and remembered her.
I had not yet come face to face with the power of connection. The power of communicating with those who have transitioned out of their earthly bodies and into pure energy – into spirit. I had never even thought about that… not really. I didn’t know what I didn’t know and I suffered her loss deeply.
This Christmas will be the 20th Christmas without my mother’s physical presence. It has been a long, arduous journey; yet I must say, the years have served to be gentle teachers and I have humbled myself to the beauty and power of connecting with those who have transitioned. I have allowed myself to think outside the box and open up to new possibilities, to new realms of existence. As a result, I have been comforted and blown away by the simplicity of it all.
I am closer to my mother now than I had been when she occupied her physical form.
I see her everywhere – in the deep multi-colors of the evergreens and the rich, bright red leaves of poinsettias, to the brightly wrapped gifts under the tree and in every tasty morsel of the Christmas pumpkin bread I continue to bake in her memory.
It takes time and love, a willingness to be open to new possibilities and a belief that there really is more to life than what meets the eye. I witness that every day when counseling my clients along with those in spirit.
I now celebrate the holidays knowing my mother dwells within. You, too, can experience this peace and comfort not only on Christmas, but every day of the year.