Hurting for the Holidays

It starts at Halloween. Her favorite, I think. Kate was diagnosed in August, so the Halloween that followed was an absolute blow for her. She was so sick and in so much pain that for that particular year, it was all about what we could do. We crafted, we looked at decorations online and in our cul du sac. We couldn’t go far, so she developed a love for the holiday from the safety of her covered cart at Target. She loved the decorations and the costumes. She’d choose 10 things each year she would like to be. She only ever got two REAL Halloween adventures, but she loved those two nights so completely. She didn’t even care about the candy, really. For Kate, Halloween was all about the build up. The days leading up to. Now, I can’t even answer the door. All the costumes that grace my Facebook feed or parade around my neighborhood only serve as a reminder of who she would be.
Thanksgiving hasn’t ever been my favorite holiday, but since Kate passed away, it has almost become so. I think it’s more that it’s a favorite memory than anything. Kate was feeling so, so well her last Thanksgiving and she was little miss personality. It was the very last day that I can remember her feeling good. Being 100% KATE. In love with life, her whole future ahead, family all around. Now, we bury our heads in the sand, sometimes choosing to half-hardheartedly participate, sometimes not. Each time we don’t, I feel I’m betraying her. How dare I not invite the whole family over for the same feast we’d served when she was here? How could I even think of not celebrating a day all about family; something she cherished?? But then when I do, I also feel it’s a betrayal, even considering a family gathering when she cannot participate. Afterall, WHAT is my family without Kate?
The sound of Christmas carols makes my stomach hurt. Twinkle lights make me cry. I went from being the mom who did it all – decorating, baking, shopping, wrapping, hosting, crafting – to…well…nothing. I don’t say that to sound arrogant. I really don’t. I’m a mom who LOVED the holidays and Kate just made my love and joy for them magnified x 1000. She allowed me to be the mom I always dreamed of being and together, we got to turn a whole month into excitement, joy and fun. She was my little sidekick and from as early in her life as I can remember, she was right there with me oooh’ing and aaah’ing at every sparkle that caught her (our) eye.
It breaks my heart, really. Kate loved (LOVED) the joy of celebrating. All of it! St. Patrick’s Day, Mother’s Day. It didn’t matter. Counting down to special occasions was something she truly loved to do. Having her family descend on our house, helping to set the table, just giddy with the excitement over the pure merriment of the season. Presents? Sure, she loved that part. Cookies for Santa and leaving him and the reindeer letters? Absolutely. But my girl just loved the JOY of it all. After all, she was at the center of our world and she just simply loved her life. She really did. We were told once “the short experience she had here was wonderful. She was not defined by illness. She was made to feel lived and important and she was cherished. Cuddled. And that was what really mattered to her.” She LOVED her life, her family and her world and I wish I could just live in that world again. It was magic, really, the bond of us three.
I dreamed of taking her to the Nutcracker. Dressing in special glittery, twirly skirts and taking her to a special tea or dessert restaurant and delighting in all things sugar plum fairy-ish. In fact, when I found out she was a girl, I think this might’ve been my very first thought.
I want…I SO WANT…to be able to celebrate for her. To rejoice in the feelings, do all the things she couldn’t. Because I know with every fiber of my being that she’s right there with me in spirit and to me, that means something. “In spirit” doesn’t just mean “oh she’d love this.” No, to me, it means she’s THERE. In my lap. holding my hand, twirling in a pretty skirt. And she wants me to. OH HOW SHE WANTS ME TO. I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to pretend it’s okay when it just simply isn’t.
The holidays are just so, so hard. I want to be okay and I just don’t feel like I ever will be. For her, we will keep on trying to find out how to carry forward with her in my heart.
Kate, you made every single part of my life better and I’m trying as hard as I can. I love you. I miss you. Best friends forever. I promise.

3 thoughts on “Hurting for the Holidays”

  1. I pray that you will always feel her presence around you and your husband. I have a true story to share, I had an aquaintence who lost their little 3 year boy accidentally. They were very much like you in that they were strong believers in Christ and an afterlife. They knew they’d see him again. For a long time they waited to have another child, having had one older child already, they wanted. Sibling for her. The new little one could never Replace their little guy, but it has taken some of the heartache away at special times of year. This child has brought a new depth of joy they didn’t think was possible. I’m sure people have asked you , but I thought I’d share a story that I know from personal experience. I don’t know you personally, but your stories of Kate are so vivid, I can grasp just a little of your love and depth of pain. God bless you sweetheart, you are a beautiful and loving mommy.
    I feel like I know you because of how you are able to express the depth of love for your sweetest Kate.
    I pray that I have not offended you darling girl.

  2. Lindsay, I hope you always write about your Kate. I hope people read & think. Your words are powerful🎗💛
    Thank you


  3. Thank you so much for sharing Kate with the world. You are a remarkable person and an excellent writer.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *