I was re-gifted some holiday stuff the year after my son died. Included was a silver tabletop display of the word, “Thankful.”
I wanted to stomp on it. To snap it in half. To take a hammer to it. To drive over it with my car. To hurl it into a brick wall.
But I kept it tucked away in a box with my holiday gear. And each year I’d unwrap it, see it, and think, “Nope.”
This weekend, I decided to unpack the holiday bins. I’ll be darned if, for the first time, I wasn’t repulsed at the thought of seeing it. Maybe this year—almost 9 years after his death—I would put it out on the table.
I pulled the decoration out of the box and unwrapped the newspaper around it. “Thank” was in one piece, “ful” the other. It was broken.
I literally laughed out loud. Oh, the flipping irony!
Sure, each of us has something to be thankful for this holiday season. But when you’re sitting in the pain and hurt of your loved one not being here, thankfulness can feel hard.
Even after 9 years and a little superglue.
