Putting Feelings into Words

I have struggled to find a way to express what I’ve been feeling, and finally have a few words that are a start.
This is supposed to be the season of joy and happiness. For me this year, not so much. The traditions, the music, the decorations, all of it, just seem pointless and empty.
I feel a void in my life, that a part of me is empty because Julia has gone Home to be with her Father. And I miss her. It isn’t just the inability to pick up the phone and talk to her – it’s everything. I was in a store this week and saw decorations that she would love, and it hurt so much that I had to leave. I’ll see a picture or read a joke or hear some news and not be able to share it with her, and each time I realize – again – that I can’t share anything with her like I used to. My head tells me that she is through with this test of mortality and has moved on to something better. But we are still here and she is gone.
I couldn’t play Christmas music much this year; I’d put on a CD and when it finished, I wouldn’t remember to start another one. Cards, letters, decorations – were all just superficial trappings that didn’t reflect what I felt inside. We hosted the annual bishopric Christmas dinner party here on the 12th, which was a good reason to postpone putting up a tree (no room in the living room for a tree as well as two long dining tables). After the party we were talking about the tree and Neal said, “Do we have to?” It was the first time that we both honestly expressed that we didn’t feel like putting that much effort into decorating when it didn’t matter to us. So the presents sat in the sewing room until Christmas morning, and then we opened them at the dining room table. It was fine – I may never set up a tree again. Maybe next year will be different – maybe it’s just the first Christmas that will be this difficult.
I don’t think I’ll ever again be who I was before Julia died. I don’t mean for that to sound dramatic, but my perception of life has changed so much and I see everything through glasses tinted with the lens of grief and loss. On bad days I weep because it seems so unfair.
I’ve been thinking about the chapter in Alma the Book of Mormon where he talks about faith. In verse 21 of chapter 32 he says, “And now as I said concerning faith —faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true.” That’s how I feel. I cling to faith in what we are taught because I hope for things which are not seen but are true – that although I’ve not seen what comes next after mortality, I have hope that all we’ve been taught is right and that we will see each other again. I have faith that Julia is free from suffering, and now that she can see the big picture she is progressing even faster. And I have faith that I will see her again.
This experience has been a hard test. In fact, this year has been filled with hard tests, but the bottom line is that no matter the difficulty of the test, all that is required of us is to be faithful anyway. Loss of a beloved daughter, loss of a job, betrayal of a friend, a broken back, a major heart attack, loss of economic stability, horrible weather, political and world turmoil – it’s all the same question: Are we going to be faithful anyway?