Christmas Eve of last year a little girl with a big but damaged heart took her last breathe on this earth. Incidentally her name was Eve and she was only 7 years old with the wisdom of a 97 years old. Her mom called her bossy and demanding from her first cry and wasn’t surprised when Eve demanded that her mom and dad, her sister and her brother sit at her bedside so that she could say her goodbye; her breathing labored and her soul tired.
“I’m not going to be here tomorrow,” Eve’s pretty blue eyes closed and she clenched her fists fighting off the pain of the brain tumor. “Santa will still come and I want you to still celebrate Christmas. I want you to open your stockings and eat cookies and play games, and go to grandma’s house for dinner, and do all the things we always did. Nothing changes except me not being there. I will be on my trip to heaven, but I will let you know when I get there.”
Neither Eve’s mom and dad wanted to think of the next hour. The next day. Or the day after that. Or after that, but Eve was persistent that Christmas not be ruined because of her. And just as Eve lived her short 7 years with determination, she passed away with the same grit – at 11:58 PM Christmas Eve as her family sang Christmas songs around her stuffed animal covered hospital bed.
Eve’s mom set her alarm clock so she could get the presents around the tree before the other two got up, all the while knowing she wouldn’t need it because there’d be no sleep. The house felt different without her Eve, and would never be the same afterwards, but she’d made a promise that they would have Christmas. Staring at the tree lights through her tears the star at the top blinked off and then on. Must be a short in the wire, she thought. She laid on the couch and closed her eyes only to be awoken by an ornament that played music if you pushed the button. Only nobody was there to play the button. And then the star blinked on and off again. Eve was letting her know she made it. It had to be. Eve’s mom took the blanket that had been wrapped around her daughter in the hospital and hugged it close. No, it wouldn’t be the same, but nothing ever was, with or without adversities.
“We’ll never forget you, Eve,” she whispered.
The star blinked off and then on again and Eve’s mom smiled.
It’s easy to not move forward after a loss, but in order to progress we must put one foot in front of the next and walk through the hurt, remember the happy, and find the present. Without forward movement in life we get stuck in depression and sadness. The past is just that. It’s okay to be angry and stomp up and down. Feeling is the beginning of healing. Letting go of the sorrow isn’t about forgetting, it is allowing our loved ones to travel; to take their journey, and yet what we sometimes forget is that they come back to us.
Include your loved ones on the Other Side in on your Christmas festivities. In a quiet, comfortable place, sit near a picture of them. Have a conversation with them, telling them about your days and saying everything you need or desire to say. Listen – remember the sound of their voice, how they spoke, their favorite words and imagine what they might say back to you. Listen. Burn a candle that reminds you of their favorite scent. Bake their favorite cookie. Holidays, anniversaries, birthdays and special celebrations have a way of opening up the scars that you thought had healed, but our loved ones want us to not live in the past, but include them in our present. That in itself is the best gift we can give ourselves, and them too.
Eve’s mom told me that they bought new star this year for their tree. This one goes off and on too. Eve’s determination and strong-will remains constant even in the afterlife.
Loss is part of life that is difficult to bear around seasons like Christmas when others may be experiencing joy: this Christmas remember to make your own traditions, new traditions, ones around acknowledging your pain and learning to grow beyond it. I hope that you all have a magical Christmas and wishing you all the best in the New Year! I’m so grateful for being in your life!
Kristy Robinett is an intuitive, life coach and author of several books, including “It’s a Wonderful Afterlife“. She is a mom and wife who loves farmhouses, front porches, iced tea and old cemeteries. Find Kristy at www.kristyrobinett.com.