Darren’s Christmas Blessing (Lessons I Learned Book Excerpt)
This excerpt is from my book Lessons I Learned From Loving You: A Memoir of Love, Loss and Healing scheduled for 2022 release.
The first year is the hardest when someone dies. Darren died in October, and soon I had to face the holidays without him. There was happiness all around me but not for me. I wanted to hide until the New Year, however, that was not a possibility. I know Darren saw I was struggling and sent me a message to let me know that he was still with me in spirit.
I walked through one of my favorite stores in a fog. The festive Christmas music, sales displays at every aisle and cheerful decorations didn’t cheer me. Everywhere I turned I saw happy people. I couldn’t go out of my house without being bombarded with Christmas cheer. Why did I even come out? Nothing would ever be the same. Two months. It had only been two months since the love of my life was taken from me.
Darren had been such a strong believer I just couldn’t understand with all the prayers he wasn’t healed. These thoughts had tormented me daily since his death on a cool Thursday evening in October. I was there when he closed his eyes. It was almost as if he waited for me to get to his hospice room before he succumbed to his disease. I held his hand and told him it was okay for him to go. His last words to me were, “I shall not die but live,” a quote from his favorite Bible verse, Psalm 118: 9. Then he was gone. It was so quick.
It was that final moment I reflected on as I walked absentmindedly through the store aisles. Cancer is such an ugly illness. It robs you of everything, even your dignity. There were times I had to help him to the bathroom. I had to feed him. The person going through it has so much physical pain and their loved ones go through an emotional roller coaster. There were times I was so weak with worry and fear I couldn’t move. It was Darren’s positive attitude that helped me hold on. He would call me on those days and say the simplest thing and I would be encouraged. Every time we were together, I would read healing scriptures to him. I told him that I did this to encourage him, but I was the one who desperately needed it.
Despite evidence to the contrary and the words of the hospice nursing staff that told me Darren was slipping away, I believed in my heart almost to the very end that he would beat the cancer. The beloved doctor who treated Darren told him in the most compassionate way possible that there was nothing else they could do. There would be drugs to keep him comfortable in hospice. I was in a daze. I prayed fervently, I researched natural cures. I cooked his favorite foods but still Darren slipped away into eternal rest.
Walking around the crowded department store surrounded by people, I still felt so alone. Ever since he left me I was looking for a sign that he was okay and so frustrated when there wasn’t one. After the funeral, kind strangers told me that I had an angel watching over me and Darren lived in my heart. Those words comforted me but I still wanted to know if Darren was okay.
It was the night before Christmas and the consuming sadness was making me miserable. The week before my mother tried to draw me out but I wasn’t ready for that. The worry lines deepened in her face every time she invited me to some holiday activity and I would decline and hide in my room. I thought moving back home would help but it didn’t. The memories of Darren were everywhere. I would be cleaning and find a card he wrote for me. The radio would play a Luther Van Dross song, that Darren who had a wonderful voice would sing to me, and I would start crying.
There shouldn’t be any more tears left, I thought to myself as I picked up a pretty Christmas display, but there always were. I just wish I knew if he was okay. Did he make it over? Was there such a thing as Heaven? Why did God have to take such a beautiful man just when I was so open to love? I would pray, demanding that God give me an answer, and all I would get was silence. I guessed I would have to live with the pain of not knowing.
“Can I help you find something, ma’am?” The young associate smiled at me. So lost in my own thoughts I hadn’t even noticed her standing there. The kind voice broke me out of my trip down memory lane. Where was I? I looked around and saw I was in the baby department. How in the world did I get here? I didn’t have a child and now I probably never would.
“I’m just looking around,” I said, a lump in my throat.
“Aren’t the baby clothes so cute?” The sales associate turned to me holding up an adorable outfit.
“Yes,” I said, covering my mouth with my hands to stop from crying. I noticed her confused expression as I quickly walked away. I hoped she wouldn’t call security on me, the crazy lady who spaced out in the baby department.
There was no need to be in the store. I had already done my Christmas shopping. It was only my mom and brother at home. I wasn’t working, as my teaching job at the school ended in June. I was looking for work, but it wasn’t my best effort.
“Oh Darren,” I sighed. “If only I could hear from you again.”
This time I walked to the toy department and stopped to observe a little girl trying to convince her father to get her a toy. She had her hands on her little hips as she made her argument. I smiled, imagining Darren with our daughter in a toy store. Darren would have been a wonderful father. Another thing he did not have the opportunity to do. It was just so unfair. I looked away, and rushed to my car before the tears could fall.
What was I going to do now? My mother was probably cooking, and I knew I didn’t want any parts of that. I needed to get away from the concern of my mother who stood helpless by as I went through all the stages of grief. I sat in my car for a few minutes thinking. The crisp December air chilled me to the bone. I turned on the ignition and the heat slowly warmed me up. I wasn’t hungry and there wasn’t a friend I wanted to see. I just wasn’t good company these days. I just decided to drive. It seemed that I had been doing that a lot lately.
Before this happened to me, I had friends who had lost husbands and significant others and I tried to be a good friend. I prayed with them, and I listened when they cried but on some level I just couldn’t grasp their pain. I am ashamed to admit that sometimes I felt that they hung on too long as if they should be over their grief in a few months. I didn’t understand at that time that the timetable of going through the stages of grief is different for everyone and isn’t a straight route. I have since learned that the only cure of a broken heart is time and we have to be patient with the process.
And then I was the one who lost a partner. My eyes were open on what truly happens when a heart is broken this way. I went to church. I prayed. I read the scriptures. Still, I had a hard time moving past his death. We were incredibly close the last three years of his life. It was as if in some strange way he was still here even though I knew he wasn’t.
Even though my friends sympathized, they couldn’t understand my pain. I had joined an unwanted sisterhood of lost love. We all know that couples don’t stay together forever. It is inevitable that one of them will die, leaving the other alone. We all know this, but that doesn’t mean we are prepared. Unless you have personal experience with the death of a partner, it can be hard to understand the utter sorrow and anger the surviving party feels.
I eulogized him at his funeral. There was no doubt that he was gone, but I still expected to hear his voice. Sometimes I would call his phone just to listen to his deep baritone on the messages. I would smell his clothes just to get a memory of him.
Not sure where to go, I started to drive. I lived in a town that had lots of houses that were decorated for the holidays. My mom handled the decorations at my house. I didn’t have the heart to put up anything. I didn’t send out any cards and for the first time in a decade I didn’t make Christmas cookies. My mother knew that something was wrong when I didn’t even want to bake. I was known for making all types of cookies for the holidays. Christmas cookie baking was a huge production. I would make at least ten kinds. I would spend hours decorating them with icing, sugars and candies. I had a few hundred cookie cutters. Dozens of different colored sugars. Friends who came to my door would smell cinnamon, clove, ginger, chocolate and other spices as they walked up the driveway to my door. They always left with a sample and a smile. I enjoyed sharing my holiday cheer with them.
Once the cookies were cooled, I put them in beautiful boxes and gave them to friends. The containers were decorated and partially clear and I took great care in making sure the packages were eye-catching. My mother always gave me a list of people she wanted me to make cookie boxes for and they were highly anticipated. She had brought flours, sugar and more cookie cutters but I had barely glanced at them. I didn’t have the energy to do any of that. She called me from my room and showed me all the things she brought. I smiled a thanks, grabbed Coco, my rambunctious pit bull, and went for a walk. We only walked three blocks before I cried. Coco licked my hands and looked at me with concern. I reached down to hug her and took her for an extra long walk. When I returned home, I saw my cookie supplies were put away. I felt so bad for hurting my mother but I just couldn’t bear the thought of baking.
As I drove I got lost in the lights and intricate Christmas designs. Darren would have loved to see these sights. He believed in miracles and nothing was more special to him than the miracle of Christmas. He made me a better person and showed me how to love. He would share Christmas dinner with his friends, many of them without families to spend the day with. I saw him give without expecting anything in return, put up with obnoxious people that I would have yelled at and show kindness every day. He always told me that we will reap what we sow.
I slowed my car and stopped at a house on Front Street.
This lady was known to go all out in her Christmas decorations. It wasn’t a large house but every inch had holiday cheer. There was Santa in his sleigh, lights everywhere and pretty displays. A few years prior I had interviewed the homeowner and the inside of her house was as lovingly decorated as the outside. I got out of my car to take a closer look. There was already a family posing and taking pictures. All around me was love but I couldn’t feel it. My heart was broken over the loss of Darren.
The stars twinkled at me and a crisp breeze blew across my nose. The weight of my heart and never-ending sadness caught up with me. I walked to my car.
Oh, Lord. How was I going to get through this holiday? The sparkling lights, corny Christmas music and holiday cheer that I enjoyed last year grated on my nerves. How could there be happiness in the world when the love of my life wasn’t here? How was I going to get through Christmas?
Thanksgiving the previous month was a blur. I stayed in my room only coming out to push food around on my plate. I didn’t taste the macaroni and cheese, turkey, candied yams and chocolate cake my mom so lovingly prepared. I was exhausted from the move home and my family gave me a wide berth. I had started therapy the week before and that helped so much. I just couldn’t get motivated.
You can’t escape Christmas. It is everywhere, commercials on television and Christmas songs on the radio. There are holiday displays, music, and sales in stores. Even in neighborhoods people decorate with lights, Santas, reindeer and the like. Despite all the outward seasonal cheer, I was breathing and not really living.
Therapy kept me sane. My therapist encouraged me, telling me stories about others who had suffered a loss. She assured me that my feelings were okay and that I had to work through the process. Before seeing her I felt guilty all the time. Well-wishers would say he was in a better place but I wanted him here with me.
When I made it home the house was quiet. I could hear the faint noise from my mom’s television and her soft snores. Quickly, I undressed and got into bed dreading my first Christmas without Darren. The miracle of Jesus Christ’s birth gave me some peace. Darren had shown me that mainstream celebration of Christ’s birth on December 25th was symbolic, as based on scripture that Jesus was born in the fall. Darren was always shedding light on the scriptures. His dedication to God warmed my heart and I was able to sleep through the night.
The early morning rays of the sun woke me. I could hear my mother working on the Christmas meal. I looked around my disorganized room. I had boxes and clothes everywhere. My heart wasn’t into putting things together before. Darren liked neatness and order. He would not want me to live in a mess. With a sigh I got up to tidy up. My stomach rumbled and tantalizing smells teased my nose. I quickly went to the bathroom and washed up and let my hair flow. Darren liked to see my hair.
I kissed my mom and handed her a small gift. She thanked me and told me she would get my gift from the car later. She was always putting things in her trunk. I guess she thought I would try to find out what she got me like I did as a child. I grabbed some juice and a muffin and walked to my bedroom.
I heard a buzzing sound and grabbed my phone. There were many Christmas greetings and I spent the rest of the morning sending responses. I set the table and we sat down to eat. After dinner I joined my Mom in the kitchen to clean up and then we settled down to watch several movies. She brought out photo albums and we laughed at the pictures. Before long, the night had come.
“I am going to bed.” I learned over and kissed my mother. ”Thank you for making Christmas easier Mom. I love you.”
“I love you to,” she responded, smiling at me.
I walked toward my room when I heard my phone ping. I wonder who could be leaving me a message. It seemed like I had spoken to all my family and friends.
I picked up my phone, read the message and almost dropped the phone. I shook my head and blinked several times and reread the message again. I hadn’t had any wine with dinner, but this was crazy. I got a text from Darren. How could he be sending me a text message when he passed away two months ago? I checked the date and time. It had only come in a few minutes earlier from his phone number. I read the message out loud so Coco can hear it too.
“Hey Sugarbee. I’m going to the bathroom like the doctors wanted. I’m okay. Love you.”
I fell to my knees. God had heard my prayers. He knew I wanted a message from Darren that I was worried about him. This message came to me on Christmas because Darren wanted me to know that he was okay.
Thank you, Lord, I silently prayed. Thank you, Lord for giving me the answer to my prayers. I know that Darren is okay, and he is with you. I also know that Darren is always near and watching out for me. He is my guardian angel and one day I will be reunited with him.