This is the 2^nd post I wrote about Christmas 2002. I find it fascinating to read now as I see how my mind automatically searched for ways to not only survive Kalei’s death, but learn how to do so in a thoughtful manner. The mind is clearly an amazing tool. Even when we ‘think’ we do not want to live or engage in life anymore, the human will to survive pushes us to do more and be more. Without being aware of it, I was already committed to building a new world and different life around my daughter’s death and continued spiritual existence.

I think you will understand what I mean when you read the post I wrote several days after Christmas 2002…

Christmas, well, it was okay. Well, that is not exactly the truth. It was not okay. It took every bit of strength I could muster to leave Kalei and drive eight hours to the ranch in order to spend Christmas with my parents. I cannot begin to explain how hard it was to go that far away from my child’s body; just the thought of adding even more distance to what was already between us made me cry. But, I knew I had no choice, I had to go and be with them, this year more than any other.

You see, in the past it was usually Kalei, me, Grandma and Grandpa together each Christmas. My siblings often had in-law and other commitments that made including a trip to the ranch difficult. That left just the four of us to ‘do’ the festive season. I don’t know how they managed that day the year Kalei died but I imagine they were so wrapped up in their grief that they did not really notice December 25^th coming and going. I was pretty sure that was not going to be the case in year #two.

Kalei’s death took more than their grandchild from them, it took a way of life away as well. You see, pre-Kalei, Christmas was almost just another day at the ranch. My parents are hardworking people who spent their lives putting all their effort into the land and their cattle; that did not leave much time or energy for anything else. Kalei turned that world upside down. She not only brought joy and laughter into their often somber existence, she made sure they participated in each and every event day. Christmas, the Kalei way, was a celebration that brought joy to all who experienced it. Without her alive, I knew my parents would be tempted to give up and eventually ignore event days altogether. So, wounded and borderline useless myself, I headed off to the ranch to (tongue in cheek) save the day.

The three of us faked ‘doing’ Christmas as best we could. However you could almost hear the collective sigh of relief when we finished the obligatory present opening and declared Christmas over the evening of December 24^th. By then, all I wanted to do was go home. I told my parents I needed to be with Kalei and would be leaving the next morning. They understood.

It hurt to participate in Christmas. I tried the faking it route by telling myself it was just for my parents but it still hurt. How on earth was I going to manage the celebratory regular universe events like Christmas that kept on coming whether I wanted them to or not?

I thought about the whole Christmas problem on the drive back to Calgary. First, was it even possible to completely ignore all holidays or event days? Second, if I could make that happen, would they be less painful? Finally, what about my family’s needs? How was I going to manage their event expectations?

Thinking about what was, what is and what is left, I thought that my future Christmas’s could go one of three ways; I could do my best to ignore it completely and the corresponding hurt and worry that action would bring to my family, I could try to fake it and pretend Kalei’s death did not change anything and just deal with my corresponding hurt or I could modify Christmas that included me, my family, angel Kalei and my grief needs. By the time I reached the cemetery I had a plan.

From now on, every December 22 or 23^rd I will drive to my parent’s place whenever they cannot make it to Calgary. We would do our best to ‘play’ merry Christmas and spend as much time with family and friends as possible. On Christmas morning I would jump in the car and make the long trek back home in order to be with Kalei and do/feel whatever I needed to do on this day. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the plan.

As I sat by Kalei’s grave this past December 25th, I was able to push out the words, “Merry Christmas Sweetie Pie.” I won’t lie to you, I cried my eyes out when I said it but somehow saying those words felt right. I was home, back with my child, celebrating Christmas with her like I had done for the past 16.5 years. The day seemed to hurt just a little bit less.

I have kept up the above tradition for the past 13 years. This year, 14 years after her death, is the first time I will not be at Kalei’s side on December 25^th. This year, I will be back at John and Carols farm, exactly where Kalei and I were in the photo at the start of this trilogy.

Somehow, I think I am being offered a new grief about why I can handle not being by Kalei’s grave on Christmas day. I  think I know what that lesson is…