Dearest Rachel –
They say that the swan, for all its apparent grace as it glides atop the water whenever one sees it, is churning its webbed feet furiously underneath the surface, where the frenzy can’t be seen. Such is the way things are at this time of year for us all, honey – or at least, that’s the ideal. There’s always so much to be done to prepare for the holidays, and never enough time to do it in, especially once the last few days arrive, and the things that can’t be done ahead of time (like food preparation) have been taken care of, all while juggling time-specific appointments and assignments that come with the season. It’s hard to maintain a graceful pace amid these last few days. Oftentimes our thrashing about is all too evident as the day itself appears.
I still recall our trips downstate to visit your folks over the holidays. With all due respect to your mom, she wasn’t particularly good at concealing the difficulties she was having at getting those last few touches in place. I could hear her complaining about the situation as she worked in the kitchen, and while you tried to help her out, it always seemed like she had a specific way of doing everything, and whatever you were doing, it wasn’t quite what she wanted done. As a result, she gave the impression that your efforts were more hindrance than help. I know it must have made me look like a layabout to hang around the place doing nothing, but it often seemed like the wiser course of action than trying and failing her. At least when I would drive everybody out on on errands, that felt like a useful skill, but it wasn’t always called for.
Then again, maybe your mom just suffered in comparison to mine; somehow, Mom had a way of making it all look effortless. Either that, or she just wasn’t given to complaining. In any case, it was a jarring contrast from the first time I was welcomed to your home until such time as she began to go senile. After that, she mellowed out a bit; it probably helped that the in-home care nurses were doing the preparations in her stead, and she was relatively out of the look. Once it was no longer her concern, she wasn’t as concerned.
Then again, things aren’t as effortless here as they used to be. My folks aren’t able to do as much as they used to, and they’ll freely admit to that fact. Although, rather than complaining about it, they seem to be at peace with it. They may have a certain frustration in not being out among people like they used to, but they tell me they’ve adapted to the situation. It doesn’t hurt that, thanks to modern technology, they aren’t as isolated and shut-in as they would have been a generation ago; they can attend church from home, and call people up and speak face to face, so it’s not as bad as it used to be.
Still, their absence from certain events is felt by others, and without going into too much detail, there are those that plan for them to be at one event or another, only for them to have to cancel to to some unforeseen emergency or another. I don’t know what to say about it from either perspective; much as I’d like to bring the parties together, there’s only so much that can be done (and given the festive nature of the events, only so much that should be said in the moment). I do find myself wishing that more of us could be less like Martha and more like her sister Mary.
That goes for me as well; I’m sure that to some people, I seem pretty chill about the holidays, and I don’t go all-out like others do. I haven’t put up a Christmas tree since Jan and I took the one down that was perched between the pantry and the dining room that you had us put up for the 2020 holidays. Granted, I also haven’t taken down the tree in our bedroom that’s probably been up since before the millennium started, but because of that very fact, it’s not particularly what I’d consider a holiday decoration anymore. But just because I don’t decorate doesn’t mean I’m not busy during the season. The next couple of days will see me in the A/V booth for hours at a time – more time than I spend at the ‘office,’ even – and I still have a fair amount of last-minute shopping to take care of, both in terms of gifts and food. I’m just as preoccupied with doing my part as anybody else, to be quite honest.
And I wonder sometimes if it’s not a means for me to drown your absence out; if I stop long enough, and let my soul be still, as we’re instructed to, I might notice that empty spot next to me, and let it overwhelm me. If I keep moving, keep busy, keep dealing with one thing and another, I won’t notice it there, and I can keep sane and functioning. Yes, by writing you like this, I’m acknowledging your continued absence, but it’s still doing something (and I may go into detail about that at some point in the future, too); it requires though a organization to put something together. Even as I address this to you, it’s also being addressed past you in such a way that it allows me to continue to recover from losing you, rather than dwelling on your absence so much.
But at some point, I know that I’m supposed to slow down; to stop, and listen to His still, small voice in this particular moment. Only I’m afraid that all I’ll hear is the silence of the empty room that shouldn’t be; at which point, I promptly fill it with noise and activity so that I don’t have to deal with it.
I wonder if this is something that others do…
In any event, I suppose I should wrap this up (which reminds me that I need to get on with wrapping some of my purchases, too; the work never quite ends, does it?). Keep an eye on me, honey; reign me in if you feel I should be (and you can); and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 