The first candle of Advent

This week is the first week of December.

Last year, this first week of December was one of the more difficult weeks I have experienced in my two and half decades of life.

Losing loved ones, I've learned, is a process. Losing two dear people in one week is so many things; a person cannot hope to begin unraveling it for months thereafter. 

I found myself in the spring at a loss to how much grief I was still shouldering. At the end of June, I was transported to an island of tolling church bells, morning walks, mysterious breezes and unrivaled fresh dates from Israel. It was the first time since December that I allowed myself to taste both sorrow and joy in their fullest. For months I had been to afraid to go anywhere near the pain I had hidden far far in there, away from all light and human kindness. 

We sang together along the beach at sunset, as my friend scattered ashes among the waves and released the spirit of remembrance and grief so long entrapped in the small package. We sang, and we wept. 

I didn't know why I was there. I felt a bit awkward and intrusive. But I sang and sang and my voice, intermingled with the others, carried my insecurity and heartache up as an offering to the ocean.

We packed up the windsurfer and covered the charcoal with sand. We put away the remains of the lobster bake and clam chowder and made a quiet pilgrimage back to the little house by the tolling bell of the old whaling church.

The last night of my island stay, I finally called a dear friend and sang and wept and laughed and shouted up to the stars. I had decided to allow myself to live, acknowledging both the wounds and possibility for healing. 

And now I find myself on the Eve of the first week of December. A week from today, after my final performance as a joyful, barefoot nymph trilling and flitting onstage, I will quietly spend my Sunday evening making Christmas cookies. It will only be one recipe; the one I made for my grandmother last year on the last day we spent together trimming her tree and smiling about how wonderful it was, yes, how wonderful, that green tree.

This advent season is a special, quiet time of preparation, indeed.