All I Want for Christmas Is You
It’s Christmas time. As I do every year, I turn up the holiday music. Mariah Carey’s song, All I Want for Christmas Is You, eventually comes up. This year, with the recent passing of my wife Allyson, this song hits differently.
I don’t want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don’t care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you
I’m not a crier, but instead, I get teared up. When I hear this song, and lots of little moments throughout the day, I think of her. Emotions take over. My chest tightens. My body quivers. My breath shortens, and my eyes water up. I close my eyes, take deep breaths, allow the moment to happen, and wait for the raw emotions to pass by.
Previously I didn’t understand the expression that the heart feels half empty. Now, I do. The wound is there, and the pain is present.
On Instagram, I found a few accounts that focus on grief of lost spouses. It’s helped me gain a little more understanding of this new world. There is something very different about losing a spouse.
When we were young and growing up, we are our own person. We are used to doing things our way, by ourselves. Then, we meet that someone special, and you transition into a different person. You begin to do things together with them. Your identity is wrapped around them, and they, around you. You share all your responsibilities, successes, and failures. You become co-pilots in life.
Then suddenly, they are taken away, and you transition back to a single person, but this time with the hopes and dreams of two people. The person who helped you both celebrate the victories and shoulder the difficult times, is no longer there. Your identity is literally no longer the same. The absence is real. Part of you is gone.
When the bomb cyclone hit the Seattle area the second night after Allyson’s passing, our region lost power for six days. By then, my mother-in-law, sister, and older son had flown in. Plus my younger son and two dogs, we had no power or heat at home for seven souls.
Normally I have Allyson to lean on in times of crisis, but this time I was left on my own. As the sunset waned into darkness, I felt alone and didn’t know what to do.
In my moment of despair, I received a text message. It’s from Steve, an old college friend. They have a generator, food, and can take us in. I was in tears when he consoled me in his driveway. Steve and his wife Jenn were our angels that night. Maybe it was Allyson who sent them my way.
And so now I begin this third phase of my life, from single to married to widower. This transition will take some time. There are no instruction manuals or project plans. I have no idea what is expected of me. If I do anything that you find disagreeable, just remember that I didn’t choose this. I would never choose to lose Allyson. I am simply trying to live on.
If there was even a choice, of course I would choose to have Allyson here by my side. I wish I could give her my life force if that means we can have more time together.
Right now, we would be watching cheesy Christmas Rom-Coms on Netflix. We would be secretly wrapping presents and placing them under the tree. We would be planning our Christmas Eve dinner with her cousin’s family. When the weather gets cold, I would make her a hot tea and get her a warm blanket.
That’s how I imagined we would spent every Christmas into our golden years, but everything is now forever changed. Allyson, more than you could ever know, all I want for Christmas, is you.
If you want to do anything in honor of Allyson this holiday season, I’d ask you to make memories with your family. That is the greatest gift you can give and receive.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all.