When a writer writes, a question that accompanies every effort is: who is your audience?
With this being the time of Thanksgiving (and the unofficial plunge into the other end-of-the-year holidays), I write for one person.
She hurts: in her bones, in her heart, in her soul. She would like to vanish right now, and reappear sometime in January after the interminable holidays are finished. He hates the thought of “celebrating.” There’s nothing he’s grateful for, and spending a day sharing a table with friends and family for “thanks” and “giving” seems a cruel joke.
After all, the wonderful person I am writing to is ill. But she doesn’t have a cold or the flu. She’s ill with a life limiting disease. Ill as in now or soon she will enter into hospice care.
After all, the overwhelmed person I am writing to is a caregiver. This time, for him, the giving of care will be far more than providing chicken noodle soup or hot tea. His loved one is dying.
After all, the precious person I am writing to—and there are so many in this season—is grieving. Every day has a dose of pain. Holidays increase those “doses” to unbearable levels.
How can we celebrate a holiday when facing death?
How can we celebrate a holiday when grieving?
How can we celebrate in the season of the empty chair? Read More →by