Our first Christmas without dad
This is my favorite time of year — a season where the problems of today and the uncertainties of the future seem to fade temporarily; when giving gifts and Christmas cheer are high; and when we prepare our hearts for the birth of Christ. It is a time, at least to me, when everything feels right.
Frank Sinatra’s classic holiday song, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” has a verse that says, “From now on our troubles will be far away.” I have always loved this sentiment and somehow in my naivete, I find myself clinging to this unrealistic hope during Christmas, even though I know it’s not possible — at least on this side of Heaven.
This year has been a reminder of this truth.
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For my relatives, late November through early January has always been about gratitude, family and faith. Like many families, throughout the years, Christmas has been both sentimental and sacred. Christmas Eve is spent at a Candlelight service at our church where we sing carols and hear a special message about Christ. The gathering culminates with over 2,000 attendees lighting each other's candles — a symbol of the ability to share the light of Christ that had been shed on us. Returning home, we have a turkey feast and crowd around the Christmas tree where the birth of Christ is read from the book of Luke. The smell of cinnamon burning on the stove, the stockings hung above the fireplace, the roar of our extended family emanating through the house always brings me a level of peace and contentment I never anticipated would one day be gone.
Dad was always the rock; when life brought the inevitable hurricanes, he was the eye of the storm where everything stayed calm ... secure. I always believed Dad was somewhat invincible. Even in his 70s Dad could outwork most men half his age. Nothing ever really jolted him off the center line. Faithful to Mom … check. Committed to family … check. Unwavering in conviction … double check. Steady in his faith of Christ … check.
The thought that one day he would not be present with us for the Christmas festivities was something I never imagined all those years we celebrated. The idea of our cornerstone being absent for the holidays, of his seat remaining empty, was unthinkable.
At least it was until about six years ago.
I first became aware that something was wrong when I took my parents out to dinner. In the car together, we collectively decided that we would go for hamburgers, but when we arrived at the restaurant, my dad insisted we were at a barbecue place. He then placed the wrong order multiple times.
Soon incidents like this one became more and more common as my father’s memory evaporated due to a severe form of dementia or Alzheimer’s. It was not uncommon for him to experience hallucinations, be uncharacteristically cantankerous and even exhibit strange behavior such as sneaking out of the house in the middle of the Texas summer in only his pajamas and no shoes.
Dad eventually came to the place where he had no quality of life, and I secretly prayed for God to take him to his heavenly home. He lived a mere existence of eating, sleeping and sitting in a chair while staring off into space. Physically he was unstable, and my youngest son and I regularly were called by Mom to come home to pick him up off the floor after a fall.
Three days before he went into hospice, I did something I had not done since I was a child. I went to his house after lunch and lay next to him in his bed for nearly two hours. I reminded him of things in the past while constantly asking him if he remembered certain memories that stood out to me. I brought up both the joyous times, such as hunting and fishing trips, and painful memories, including the time a tornado destroyed our home. He did not remember the more recent occurrences but there were undoubtedly a few in the distant past that he could recall.
I had no idea at that moment that it would be the last conversation I would ever have with my father in this life. Even though my dad lived another 10 days, he never spoke to me again.
This is our first Christmas season without Dad, and we feel the sting of his absence. Still, I am grateful that though Dad is missing, his memory and impact on my life will never be. They are like “home” — a place that is like no other; a place I always return.
More importantly, I take comfort in knowing that although my Dad is missing this Christmas, he is not gone. He has only changed his address, and someday we will reunite there.
Perhaps you are facing a similar scenario this year and feeling the emptiness that comes with missing a loved one at Christmas. My prayer is that you take time to remember and honor your loved one’s legacy. Amid the celebrating and fellowship and maybe even the tears, it is the perfect time to remember, to cherish and to honor your loved one’s legacy.
Further, I pray that you rest in the hope we have in Jesus to one day see each other again in Heaven. As scripture tells us, “For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:22). While the pain of earthly absence may be great, we have hope in the heavenly reunion that is one day to come.
Jay Lowder is an author, evangelist and founder of Jay Lowder Harvest Ministries. Follow him on Facebook via jaylowder or on Instagram at jay_lowder.
