A Season of Emptiness

(This article was originally published December 31, 2022, in the Southern Spice section of Times-Georgian.)

"And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent..." ~Taylor Caldwell

Photo/Unsplash

How lucky am I to have never experienced the loneliness of the holidays before this season! Surrounded all my years by parents, aunts and uncles, a husband, a daughter, and best friends, I had no need for the good-intentioned, if generic, advice blasted from websites and columns on “how to navigate the holiday season of loss.” The recommendations are always the same, I notice now, and provide little comfort to those mired in heartache. 

But this year -- this year -- was different. This holiday season arrived with an empty chair at the dining room table. A vacant recliner in the living room. A dad-shaped hole in my heart. The first Christmas without him. 

Navigating my way through grief after the loss of my dad last year nearly did me in. Never had I dreaded the holiday season before, and never before had I associated Christmas with emptiness and barrenness. 

Many months before the holidays, I had reconnected with my younger cousin Brooks at my dad’s memorial service. Brooks and I, both only children, had spent countless summer vacations and winter holidays together when we were young. But the ensuing years of adulthood, replete with the busyness of working and raising children, had resulted in a gradual, though normal and unintentional, distancing in our relationship. Reuniting with Brooks brought the added bonus of embracing his wife Brandy and their two adorable and sprightly little girls.

And it turns out that the unexpected and simple things in life are best suited to combat the emptiness. 

David and I rediscovered the joy in traveling with young children, something that we often miss and long for now that our own children are older. Experiencing the wonder of traveling with Brooklynn and Brylee and watching their enthusiasm at the theme parks proved an effective antidote to my dread of the season. Their wide-eyed wonder and perpetual optimism elevated our mood and spirits; sparkling laughter and playful teasing filled our time together. And this time we had the added bonus of handing the girls off to their parents when the cranky bedtime blues kicked in. 

Back row: Brooks Bice (left) + me; middle row: Brandy Bice; front row: Brylee Bice (left), Brooklynn Bice, + David Trumble

Our three short days together ended much too quickly, but we parted, having made promises and plans of future trips together with our families, both to the beach and back to our family home in northern West Virginia next summer. 

In spite of the unexpected harshness of the holiday season, the world, it seems, is not completely cruel and indifferent after all. 

Though the dad-shaped hole will always remain, my cousin helped turn a season of emptiness into one of satiety and fellowship, filling  the void and helping me see that I am, in fact, not alone.