This is the song that has been in my head all this holiday season. I can't explain why, except that I didn't know what to expect this year. Last year we went to London and avoided being home with the memories. This year brought new challenges, like what to do with Sean's stocking and Christmas ornaments. We chose to stick with the positive and leave out any reminder that would only serve to make us sad. Anyway, John Lennon said exactly what I felt this year:
The lyrics are so simple, yet, as most of his lyrics were, so on point. What could one wish more for another than a year without fear or tears? And, in a way, Christmas marks the end of a year more than a religious holiday to many. It's a way to celebrate no matter what happened the previous year. It's observed no matter what - sometimes with less passion than others, but not celebrating doesn't seem an option. It brings many of us together for the one time a year that we forgive and aren't afraid to show love.There were times this year that things seemed rather normal. Like a dream. Sean never came until Christmas Eve anyway, and in the last couple of years, not until midday, so everything could seem fine until then. There even was a year when he spent Christmas in Woodstock (I was so jealous!). Never, though, a year without a call... a “Hi, Mama, Merry Christmas.” or a "Sorry, I'm late!" Better was: "Sorry, I didn't have time to wrap the presents." It never mattered, because they were always perfect for each person for whom they were intended.I kept the day busy, though, so I wouldn’t notice the absence. We were blessed with the presence of Bridget, Allison and her wonderful family and two guests who had important places in Sean’s life. I cooked like crazy, thinking of what Sean would say about everything I made. Sausage and peppers are now Jeff’s favorites, and were always Sean’s, so he had his stamp on the meal. He would have loved the roast just as much and complained about eating too much. Of course, when the desserts arrived, his appetite would recover, and would recur in the middle of the night :) I loved hearing his kitchen raids and always awoke when he came down the steps, even though he never knew.I went to a grief counselor for almost a year after Sean passed. One thing that she said was that people would lose their patience with your grieving into the second year, and that’s why counseling serves a purpose. I didn’t know how true that could be. I feel like I’m just coming to terms with the fact that Sean is gone, and yet, I feel that I must act otherwise. I’m sure that people just want to move on, as I wish I could and that now, my sadness would only make them uncomfortable. So, in order to socialize as little as I do, I put on that happy face. Are my eyes the same? Does the smile seem genuine? I can’t tell because I am severed from myself to some extent. Like a paper doll, a hologram of myself trying to be productive, normal. I must be to be the responsible person I am supposed to be.What are the gifts that I have received that brings my heart some joy? The many, reliable people from all parts of the world who have become my friends, if only on Facebook. They let me know that Sean is alive in their hearts as well. It’s the people who buy his CDs and t-shirts from our website and then tell me how honored they are to talk to Sean’s Mom. Can you believe that? That they would be impressed to talk to ME? It’s because I am the Mom of a wonderful son who touched the world with his talent and huge heart.What I do know is that this loss is not suffered by me alone. Too many mothers have written to me about their loss and I know their grief is no less for the fame their sons/daughters may not have enjoyed. What I want to do for them is develop a page on our website that lists the names of every person who has been lost to their family from mental illness or addiction (which in my mind, are one and the same, for who would want to be addicted to a substance and let it ruin lives and relationships?). I want to remember all of them, for each of them is important to our quest and my resolve. I cannot do this on my energy alone, albeit my idea originally. I just am not strong enough. Maybe one day my grief will turn to anger or a drive that will propel me through the challenges of what I have started. I can only think of Sean and how he struggled and yet fought and gave us such wonderful gifts.We, who knew him, all miss him. We will never be the same. Not me, not Glenn, not Bridget, not Allison, not his Dad. We can only hope that we are in some way, better. I know that we are better for loving him and having been loved by him.John Lennon wrote such a beautiful and poignant poem, really. The thought of no more war is something that I have fervently wished for since I was a kid. I refused to even read about Vietnam and every successive foolish attempt of mankind to hurt his own, mostly under the guise of a love for God... like I could just wish war away. (I wouldn't even buy him a toy gun!) I know that Sean was a pacifist: he couldn't even hold a grudge :)I am compelled, however, to perpetuate a war of my own..... against prejudice, ignorance, and neglect of all of those who suffer with mental illness and the families who suffer with them. In this war, however, there will be no prisoners, no loss of life. On the contrary, we will be free to receive the healthcare that all others do; we will be offered the benefit of research that others are; and we will live long, healthy, productive lives so that we can share our own special gifts with the world. But, I do need an army to succeed.Even though today seems to be an especially sad one for me, I am hoping that each of you who reads this has a wonderful, prosperous and healthy new year.You can give me one late Christmas gift: always remember Sean and pass his music on to all whom you know, and in that passing, let them know that he was a beautiful, talented, loved and loving person who struggled with a disease that needs attention. Whatever they can do to help is their own personal gift for Sean.