*Quick Summary: The author discusses the death of his sister near Christmas, and how that affects his view of the holiday. He also offers help to others who struggle during the holidays.*
This cute little girl was born August 23, 1966. This photo was taken when she was 5 in 1971. This is one of the last photos of her as the youngest Myrick child. She was my older sister Michelle, and soon afterwards I would come along and claim the title of “the baby” of the Myrick family.
Michelle would die of a massive seizure on December 21, 1997 at 31. Her life was so much more than a dash between her most important dates. She was a friend, a sister, a daughter, and a mother of 3. She was intelligent, kind, a lover of all animals, and at times my best friend. Losing her is a pain from which we will never recover. Losing her 4 days before Christmas would change the way we all saw this holiday from then on.
Christmas, 1997 was total hot garbage. No other way to phrase it. There was nothing good about it. Thankfully, during the years that followed, every Christmas was a little different. While it would never contain the joy it once held, the levels of sadness, and hatred for the day, would fluctuate. Some years were good, some years were really bad. None were as awful as 1997. Somehow, and in some way, the spirit of Christmas has found me every year since then. Even when I didn’t want it to – especially then. In little ways, and in the strangest times, the spirit of the birth of Jesus Christ has given me comfort during my perennial worst time of the year.
If you know my family, you know we are quite well versed on death, loss, and grief. We have sustained some truly tragic losses, and I regularly counsel people dealing with the feelings connected to death based totally on my own experiences. I have said all this to tell you that if you’re still reading this, and if you hate this time of year because of your own life circumstances, I’m here. I understand. I listen well. Occasionally I’ll even say something that may help you. Ultimately, I know that time is the best medicine, but there will always be a shallow scar. One that can be ripped open again with the slightest thought, word, or place. You will never be the same, but you sure don’t have to be raw year after year. For those reasons, I’m here if you need someone to get you through these next few days. It helps me to help others. And if you don’t want to discuss it, I understand that too. Just know that if I can help you, I will, and whether or not I help you, Jesus Christ always will. Every time. Every year. Somehow. Some way. Let yourself feel His presence. Let yourself experience Christmas again.
