Everything has its place
We had both a full house and calendar over the holidays – which was just how I had planned it. It was loud and cluttered and cozy and sparkly and then when everyone left and the calendar cleared, I went on an organizational bender because OMG I was going to lose my mind in the mess that remained.
I made Jackson go through the numerous toy bins in his closet to determine what could be parted with to make room for all that was new. I ordered and put together a new shelving system in Strawbaby’s room to make space for her impressive holiday haul. The decorations were boxed up and placed in storage, furniture put back in its rightful place and my house reclaimed. Or as reclaimed as is possible with two dogs, two kids and a Miguel.
“Babe, where should I put these?” Miguel asked me holding up two new jackets he’d received for Christmas.
“Well, where will you be when you want them? Are they something you will grab as part of an outfit in which case you want them in our closet? Or will you grab them as you are going outside so you’ll want them in the downstairs coat closet?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think that way. They just need to have a place they belong.”
I sighed in response at the futility of this exercise. “…But you’re not going to keep them there. You’re going to hang them on the back of a chair like you always do.”
“Yeah, sure, probably, but I still want them to have a place.”
I didn’t disagree. Everything should have a place – physical or otherwise and this past holiday season showed me what a difference that could make.
It’s been three weeks since my last blog, yet I was still struggling with what to write about this week. Before going on hiatus I assumed that my first blog of the new year would be inspired by some holiday effected grief moment. But our Christmas and New Year’s celebrations lacked the emotional ferocity of years past. In fact, the holidays felt – dare I say it – normal.
Four years ago, I had resuscitated Adelaide in the wee hours of Christmas morning at my parent’s house, the following Christmas was spent in Chicago and was our first without her. 2020 was still an emotional shitshow but this time back at my parent’s house where I relived Adelaide nearly dying two years prior. Then 2021 was our first holiday with Strawbaby and you can read all about how that went here. This year I felt . . . settled.
Of course, there were still moments of tears and sadness when we remembered Adelaide, but for the first time they didn’t overtake the celebrations. She had a place with us, a healthy place - one that didn’t overwhelm or feel diminished. It helped that after several years of difficult holidays, my expectations have shifted. They’ve not been lowered exactly but, rather, released. Then there’s the fact that I’ve also (finally) come to acknowledge and accept everyone’s place in our family and home.
To be clear, I doubt I will ever accept Adelaide’s short and painful life, but I have accepted that she is gone. You may think that I don’t have much of a choice in the matter but let me tell you how easy it is to allow someone to take up mental, emotional, even material space in your life without having a bodily presence in it. Adelaide will always have a presence in my life, the goal has never been to erase her, (as if I could) but to find her a place in this ever evolving, new normal. It is also acknowledging that her place will change as time goes on but that there will always be space for her. One that isn’t threatened by Strawbaby’s existence, my happiness, or the time that has passed since her death.
By no means do I think that this specific acceptance, or that one trauma-free holiday season, means that we’ll be good from here on out. Every major life change, be it an addition, subtraction or otherwise, is going to require an organizational readjustment where once again I need to let emotions settle and figure out where everyone fits. Next time though, I can take solace in knowing that there will always be room for everyone – because everything and everyone has its place.
