Grief can be sneaky. Just when I think I have it licked, I wake up with a tear streaked pillow, and the tape of my son’s death day looping through my brain. The first year the tape played more often, and I’d find myself clinging to the hope that it was all just a horrible nightmare. Now I know the hard truth, force myself out of bed, give myself permission to cry, and maybe add a little extra sugar and cream to my coffee, to sweeten the day.
Of course, the holidays tend to bring out the tape, as my brain travels back in time. Now, at least, I focus on positive memories, tactile and poignant, like the apron I gave my son one year for Christmas. He loved to cook, and we used to make the pumpkin pies together. So, every year I grow pumpkins in his memorial garden, and every Thanksgiving I wear his apron and turn the pumpkins into golden pies.
The pies, made with love, touched with healing tears (just the right amount of salt), always taste delicious. They remind me of the time I had with my son, the laughter we shared, the joy he brought to my world. I hope your holidays are filled with joyful memories, that your pies are tasty with love, and that you allow yourself to shed salty tears that will help heal your heart.
