It’s that most wonderful time of year again. Our minds are filled with candy canes and gingerbread everything, and we’re ready to deck the halls with boughs of holly as soon as the turkey is eaten on Thanksgiving Day. We’ll bake cookies, make holiday crafts and take the family out to the farm to cut down the perfect tree. We’ll count the days til Christmas morning while every commercial boasts happy families gathered around the fireplace, wearing matching pajamas and opening piles of gifts.
But for those of us in the unenviable group known as the Grief Club, secretly we just want to bypass Christmas morning because the days leading up to it make it the most difficult time of year. In the Land of Grief, where the gates of our souls have been torn open, we’re remembering our loved ones who are no longer with us on earth, and we wonder how we will ever celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas without them.
This editor has grown very familiar with death, having lost many dear ones over the years, including my younger brother Michael, my father, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and my niece Kelly-girl on March 10th of this year followed by my husband Bobby on July 9th. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of them, but with the holidays approaching, special memories seem to magnify their loss. The sadness feels sadder and the loneliness goes deeper. For us bereaved, our Christmas wish list is small, because the things we really want can’t be bought. We miss our loved ones like crazy and would do anything to have them back home again.
Grief is one of those emotions that has a life of its own, and only those who have lost someone close can truly know how difficult it is to get through. To soothe our grieving hearts, I’ve found one of the best remedies, no matter what time of year, is to go outside somewhere quiet and be alone with the heavens, nature and God. I feel blessed to live by the sea, with a seawall that stretches around the most peaceful body of water. It beckons my soul out for early morning walks to witness the sun come up over the ocean’s horizon. It’s as though I’m walking on the shores of eternity, where only a thin veil separates me from my family members who have passed on. I feel so close to my loved ones there, that I truly hear their songs from Heaven. There’s much healing in my morning ritual.
Along with the therapeutic sea air, becoming a volunteer can also remedy a broken heart. Helping others can help take the sting from our grief, and even if it is just a temporary fix for us, know that it will be a long-lasting blessing for the person receiving it. There are many local Wildwood charities, but one in particular that needs as many elves as it can get is The Lynch Who Steals Christmas from the Grynch, a charity that gives Christmas to hundreds of less fortunate families. (See page 8 for more info) In the real spirit of Christmas, we can emulate Jesus who famously said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
In addition to giving to those less fortunate, try turning your Christmas list into a gratitude list. It can almost miraculously bring joy, even in our deepest sorrow.
As familiar with sorrow and grief that I’ve become, God has taken it and helped me create something so happy with it in The Sun. It has been pure joy for me to share stories inspired by our home by the sea; like finding the sunlight streaming in through the shadows. It is a Christmas gift onto itself. My heartfelt intention is that The Sun provides each of you with a sunny antidote for life’s melancholy moments. Thanks to you, its faithful followers, it has taken on a life of its own; one much larger than I could have ever dreamed possible. My purpose with each edition has always been to share my love of all things Wildwood with like-minded people. Knowing how much you all love The Sun blesses me with gratitude beyond words. You all are on the top of my list!
With a grateful heart, I ask that God bless you and bring you Peace. And may you accept this holiday issue of The Sun as my handcrafted Christmas gift to you, with special thanks to my faithful loyal advertisers.
On the original Christmas Day, the angels rejoiced that Jesus was born. May we all find the courage to rejoice also, as will our loved ones, now in their Heavenly Home with the One who came as a Babe in swaddling clothes.
I wish all SUN readers Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas and a Happy (hopefully sunny) New Year!
Peace, Love & Sunshine, Dorothy
