Today’s Christmas, again. It’s been 6 years since that hateful, fateful fire took Solon and Liam away. What do we do with this family holiday – also our children’s death day?
“Motion is lotion,” is my friend’s strategy for avoiding knee pain. I can’t argue with motion, but I’d also add, “nature is nurture” and at least for us, “motion in nature” tops it all.
Every Christmas morning since 2010, Chris and I have risen before the sun to hike up a mountain. It’s the same tradition every year, yet always different. Christmas 2010, five fresh inches of powder had fallen overnight and snow softly fell through the beams of our headlamps throughout the entire hike. It was spectacular. Christmas 2013, we carried nearly every article of outdoor gear we owned to survive the summit temperature at 15 degrees below zero and stayed only briefly before scurrying home to the hot tub.
This morning, Christmas 2015, temperatures were freakishly warm, as they have been on the east coast for weeks. Except for some low clouds along the horizon and the occasional drifter, the sky was quite clear. We watched the full moon setting through the trees while ascending and then spent nearly an hour atop the mountain watching the colors change as our part of the world turned again to face the sun.
The world turned to face the sun. Again.
Why the world did not simply stop in place when our children died upset me greatly in 2010. How could all of these people be moving around still doing their thing, when our children were dead? How dare the world continue to turn when our world had come to a screeching halt?
Today, Christmas 2015, up on top of that mountain, and further along in my grief journey, I realize I am more in love with our changing world, our spinning, revolving earth than I have been in six years. Watching the colors of sunrise shift as the light returned brought me comfort, and joy too. Today, I celebrated the fact that the sun does rise each day to extinguish darkness and make life possible. I’m thankful for the 10 and 12 years we had with our boys.
Darkness gives way to more light and life every day.
Molly Reynols says
April 1, 2016 at 5:56 pmDeanna,
Just this afternoon, I received the terrible news about the the deaths of Solon and Liam. Your family was at Pioneer Valley Montessori School for only a short time but we were all sorry that you were moving on. I’m glad that I kept googling after reading the Kentucky news article, the Barre news article, and the obituary. I was stricken in thinking about you and Chris – how had you survived the loss of your dear boys? Had you survived their loss? Your book is a gift to the world – to others who may also have to go through a life-shattering loss. I will buy it and read it and share it. I’m so deeply sorry for the loss of Liam and Solon and for the pain that you have suffered.
with love, Molly Reynolds (former Head of School at Pioneer Valley Montessori School)