Well then, haven’t I just been the worst blogger ever this past week.  It’s for the best really.  My mind was a bit consumed with sadness – nothing else, it seems, would fit.  People I had known for years became “What’s-his-name” or “What’s-her-name”… you know, What’s-her-name; she’s friends with (snapping fingers) What’s-their-names.  And the tears!  By Saturday morning I was a total Mole Rat - fully clothed, mind you, but a Mole Rat all the same.  My eyes were so puffy I had to lift my brows to see.  It wasn’t pretty. 

Over the course of the week I did learn a few things.  For instance, never attempt to cut your bangs after you’ve bawled for a week straight.  Trust me on this.  Also, some people should never open their mouths during times of sorrow.  No, don’t speak … shhhh… no don’t … don’t speak.  I learned that you just can’t get away from it – you watch a movie and there’s something about death and dying, obits and memories; you do a Google search and there’s a picture Dix would have chosen for her Christmas card.  It’s everywhere. And I learned there are some men who will face sorrow head on.  They’ll call or come over.  They’ll say they are sorry and they know it’s hard.  They’ll offer a hug or maybe just sit there while the girls cry.  They don’t try to explain it away or make it better – though you know they want to.   I think these must be the strongest men of them all. 

I also learned that sometimes God grants a bit of mercy.  Ever since I found out about the accident I just wanted to know Dix was okay.  Sure, this seems to contradict my belief that she’s in a better place.  But the fact of the matter remains, I’m human.  I live in a world that is far from perfect; I can’t quite fathom that place of perfect peace.  So when I hear about a tragic accident, I can only think fear or pain - my mind can’t imagine it being gone, as if it never happened.  Try as I might, I could not get it out of my mind.  

But Thursday night, I had a dream …

I was suddenly standing in Dixi’s kitchen, and she was in her living room, looking around.  “Dix!”  I said, “What in the world?  They told us you had died.”  “Oh I did, honey,” she said, “but I’m okay.  This place, however is a mess!”  Then she said something about it being embarassing and other people shouldn’t have to deal with it.  ”Oh Dix, all that matters is that you’re okay!”  I said.  “We’ll take care of the rest.”  She smiled and then she was gone.  All I remember after that is feeling total peace – almost happiness. 

So we will.  We’ll take care.  Like the British war poster, we’ll “stay calm and carry on.”  There will still be tears.  Are you kidding?  Can’t be helped.  There will still be prayers for those left behind.  But this week they’ll be mixed with those darn Christmas card stragglers – the baking of cookies, and wrapping of gifts – spending time with friends and family – celebrating my favorite time of the year.  After all, we have three days ’til Christmas Eve, my friends, three days!

The idea was born of friends who have lost loved ones this year.  Most recently, my friend Dixi.  Her father died early Friday morning.  What I never dreamt, however, was a knock Saturday morning and a friend informing us that Dixi and her sister, Kristen, had been killed in a head on collision Friday evening.  They were almost home. 

My mom and Dixi worked with each other for nearly 17 years.  Like an old married couple, they knew how to make each other laugh, and when to leave each other alone.  “I have a problem” was code for “I need another latte.”  And this year, they implemented the “positive only” policy, where they agreed not to say negative things about people who annoyed.  Mom admits that there were times they had nothing at all to say.  When Dixi could take it no longer would simply say, “three dollar bill.”  Mom would nod her head, and they would laugh.   

I don’t imagine there will be much laughter in the office today. 

Dixi loved and was loved back.  She was an amazing Nurse Practitioner.  She was knowledgeable on all sorts of subjects.  She was the type of person you always wanted on your team for Trivial Pursuit, but never wanted to go up against because she would kick your butt to a neighboring state and back.  Of course, as with most intelligent minds, she didn’t take kindly to idiocy.  She loved to try new things.  If she was afraid, she didn’t let on.  She loved her family and she was a loyal friend.  If you needed her, she would be there.  She was a giver.  She loved to laugh.  She loved to celebrate.  Champagne was her drink of choice, and though she resided in Idaho, her heart was snorkeling the blue waters of Mexico. 

For many of us, the only consolation we have is the fact we were able to say goodbye.  Dixie called to tell us she was back for a bit and thank us for taking care of Chloe.  Before I hung up, I told her I loved her.  She popped into the clinic as well – where her friends gave her their love and agreed that what she was planning to say at her father’s funeral was perfect.   

My mom told her she was sorry for the loss of her father.  “I’m not, honey,” she said, “death is not about us, it’s about those who have died.”  It’s true.  I know she’s in a better place.  I’m thankful family was already on their way to her mother.  And I’m thankful she and her sister went together.  Ever since she found Kristen under the tree with a note “To Dixi” – forty-five Christmases ago – she’s taken care of her.  It’s only fitting she would take her hand and lead her to heaven too.      

But I just can’t stop the tears.  I can’t imagine going to the clinic and not chatting with her.  I can’t imagine a summer without a party or two in her backyard, seeing pictures from her latest trip, or searching the world over for the perfect tropically themed gift to give her. 

But Dix would understand our selfishness.  She would expect nothing less.  She was always the strong one.  Even when she had breast cancer.  Once again, it was nearly Christmastime when she found out, but she made my mom promise not to tell anyone.  She wanted to wait for the new year to break the news; that way, everyone could enjoy their holidays.  As mom tried to put on a brave face Dixi said, “Don’t worry honey, I’ll be okay.”  And she was. 

I imagine Dixi would have asked to wait for the new year this time as well.  Not so she could take Chloe to one more pug club, sit under her palm tree Christmas tree, laugh with friends, drink her champagne, or open presents.  She would do it so her mommy wouldn’t have bury her husband and both her girls on the same day.  So little Amy Beth wouldn’t have to come into work this morning and find the birthday present Dixi left on her chair before she left on Friday.  She would do it so we could laugh and sing and enjoy the holidays. 

But life doesn’t work that way. 

So this year, our tears will fall as the snow.  Eventually the tears will lessen; the laughter will once again increase.  We will think of her everytime we sip some bubbly, frolic in the ocean, or raise our brows and mouth, “Three dollar bill.”   In that, though she be far from sight, she will never be far from our hearts.

And each time we …

Have faith

Create

Seek adventure

Learn

Laugh

Look fear in the face

Love deeply

Give freely

Celebrate

Do what we do well

Our lives will be a reflection of hers.  In that, as long as we walk the earth, a bit of Dixi will walk alongside us.  It’s the gift her life gave us and the memorial our lives give back.     

So yes, sometimes a white Christmas is tinged with blue.  Sometimes festivity is turned to sorrow and a holiday greeting is our goodbye.  Sometimes we are reminded the hard way that the greatest gifts of all are not those under the tree, but those tucked deep within our hearts.