Well, I am completely worn out.  I am sure you can relate.  For the past three weeks, I have either hosted or attended every Christmas party I possibly could, shopped for or made the perfect gifts, baked cookies, decorated the house, cleaned and re-cleaned the house, designed and sent Christmas cards, and so on.  And fitting this all in with regular life. Raise your hand if this is you, too!  I enjoyed it all while doing it, but I reached my limit and for the last few days it’s been hard to find energy.  I was glad we planned a low-key Christmas day with just the three of us.   And, I am coming down with a cold.

I wanted to share one thing that I did this holiday season that I am most happy about.  If you have been reading along with me for the last six months since I launched Home with a Twist, you’re familiar with the story behind the loss of my parents and the challenges I have had, in particular, with grieving the loss of my mother (read here).  One thing I haven’t been able to do in the three years since she died was visit the cemetery.

This past Wednesday, I was in the area of the cemetery picking up a Christmas gift.  As I got closer, I had this feeling that it would be okay to go by and say hello.  I wondered if the florist at the funeral home had wreaths or poinsettias I could place at their graves.  As I made it to the corner, there in front of their building were rows and rows of beautiful tokens of Christmas.  I pulled in and decided on a bunch of poinsettias to add a pop of color to Mother and Daddy’s plot they share with my grandparents and Daddy’s baby sister who died when she was two.

I parked and walked over.  It wasn’t as hard as I thought.  It did make me cry a little to see Mother’s name carved into the marble.  We visited and talked about Christmas.  I looked over and saw that my Daddy’s little sister, Pauline, died on December 21, the next day.  I can only imagine what that must have been like for him and my grandparents to lose a child four days before Christmas.

As I drove around to leave, I could see the mound of red poinsettias — the only spot of color to be found in that older section of the cemetery.  I could just imagine Mother’s smiling face at how pretty she thought the flowers looked.   She loved color!   It gave me great comfort, not sadness, as I drove away.  And hope, that many more visits are to come.  Perhaps next time I shall take daffodils.