Its the longest night, and I am still looking for Joy

I didn’t write a post last week. I wanted to. I thought about it. I even had this one perfect moment where the cookies I have been trying to re-create for the last 9 years or so were FINALLY right and my oldest and I sat on the couch and I told her how my grandma made them every year and her Boppa, my dad loved them so much and we cuddled and she told me she was so glad to be sharing this with me.

I got it, I thought, I have my tiny moment of joy. I was going to hang on to that thing with both hands. And I tried. But then it just got really sad again, not to mention the dog ate the entire plate of perfect cookies and left me all of the over and under cooked ones. It is the first christmas without my dad, my kids Boppa and I am having a really hard time. (If you are wondering how many days in a row I cried at the bar the answer is three. It might be four we will see what happens tomorrow. It isn’t my fault. People keep asking me how I am.)

I know that Joy and Sorrow can co-exist. I have quoted the research that the more deeply you feel the sorrow is how greatly you experience the joy. I have told so many people that emotions are okay and you can feel whatever you feel. I have meant it every time. I just don’t know how to extend that same grace to myself. I didn’t expect the sorrow. It sort of snuck up on me.

I have had to ask for more help than I wanted to. That is, I have had to ask for help. I need help making dinner and wrapping presents. I need my kids to take over some cookie duties. I need a second at the bar where I can get myself together. I need my friend to come in for dinner so I do not feel alone. I need to cut myself a serious break. As much as I wish the timing was different I am grieving in a way that exhausts me. I thought that telling people, asking for help would some how burden everyone else. I thought it would make it more real. Instead it has made it more bearable. Opening up has made me vulnerable, and also made me feel like I could breathe again.

So I am learning that joy and sorrow do co-exist, but mostly in community, in the soft bits and the opening up. I am learning this dark night that sometimes you experience the sorrow and trust that it is tilling the soil for the joy to grow, and you light the candle, you ask for help, you do it all imperfectly and that is enough.