Overcoming Loss Around Christmas: House Mountain Hike #188 on 12-31-2023! (published 1-5-2024; article #447)

“Easter cave at sundown” by Bruno van der Kraan on Unsplash, 3/15/2018. Free to use under the Unsplash License.

Introduction

Another year has gone by. Over the last year, I wrote several daily notes in my 2023 desk calendar. Turn the page. Another year has started. So far, my 2024 desk calendar has only a few notes. Here we go again. The undiscovered country awaits us. What will it bring? We will see. It is the future. Only God knows what will happen in 2024.

Greetings, dear reader. We may or may not know each other personally. We may not be from the same country. I understand, however, why the first part of the title has drawn you to this article. I hope that this personal essay helps you. Writing it over the course of seven days has helped me. I will explain.

If you stay with me to the conclusion, you will understand why I selected the above image. This is the 20th article in the Light at the End of the Tunnel topic section. The conclusion explains why that section is so titled.

My mind had pondered this article for a few days. I thought about not writing it. On Friday, 12/29/2023, I decided to start writing. On that day, I searched online for “overcoming loss around Christmas.” I found plenty of how-to articles, which include bullet point advice, tips, and suggestions to help readers. While well-meaning, such entries are a dime a dozen. Some articles approach the topic from a biblical viewpoint. They are laced with inspiring passages. I already know those scriptures. You may know them as well. I was drawn to a few articles that share personal stories of loss around Christmas. While more meaningful, I didn't find one that spoke to my heart. I may not have searched widely enough, but I felt the need to write this article.

This entry, speaking from my heart, relates the ways that I have found, last year in particular, to overcome the loss of loved ones around Christmas. For me, the season of loss includes Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve, and New Year's Day. This is not a “how to” article. It is a personal sharing of what I did, once again, to overcome memories of loss around the holidays.

The Losses

There were several. Every year around Christmas, each loss combines as one prolonged memory of loss. I feel as if a dreary cloud hangs above me, especially when the weather is also dreary. It seems as if I am near the bottom of a dark enclosure, such as a cave or ravine, with little sunlight. I attempt to clear the cloud and climb out of the darkness toward the light. The memories occur in random order, usually triggered by the day.

My maternal grandfather, Aby William Wood (born 9/4/1901), became ill on Christmas Day in 1982. Christmas was on Saturday that year. At 22, I was renting a small apartment and attending East Tennessee State University in Johnson City, Tennessee. I was home on weekends. On those weekends, I stayed the night shifts with Papaw at the hospital. On the Sunday morning before he passed away the next day, Papaw appeared to be better than he had ever been! In the sunny and crisp morning weather as I walked to my 1978 Mustang Cobra II to go back home and to prepare to go back to my apartment, I remember thanking God for helping Papaw recover so well. Papaw passed the next day on Monday, March 14, 1983. I was stunned when Mom called to tell me.

I searched this website for “Aby Wood” and found several articles. I was drawn to the 3/14/2013 article, “Tribute to Papaw Wood—Revisited.” I won't write further in this article about Papaw's illness and passing. To do so would bring back bad memories.

On Christmas Eve 2002, my father (Earl Ferrell, born 9/17/1927) was released from the hospital to return home. Christmas Eve was on Tuesday that year. Dad had been given six months to live. I followed my youngest brother, who drove our father back home. It was a cloudy and cool afternoon. Additional details are in the 6/20/2021 article, in which I write to my father in the first person, under the section “December 17, 2002, to January 13, 2003?” Thanks to God's providence, Dad lived just over five years longer.

In late 2007, my father's heart was winding down. Dad joined his wife on Friday, January 25, 2008, a month after his last Christmas. Searching for articles about my father, I focused on two: the 6/21/2009 Father's Day tribute and the 6/26/2010 article titled “Well Machine & Water Truck Legacy.”

Papaw Wood and my father were older. Papaw's Christmas Day illness that led to his passing and my father's Christmastime illnesses and passing, a month after Christmas, were tragic, especially since they occurred on or around Christmas.

Mom (Betty Lou Wood Ferrell, born 11/24/1932) was only 67 when the ambulance took her to the hospital on Tuesday, 12/28/1999. My wife and I had returned from our five-year Christian missionary service in Russia on 9/30/1999. We were living in a small apartment in Knoxville, Tennessee, and adjusting to life in America.

On Thursday, 12/16/1999, my mother became ill. Shortly afterward, a local physician missed the diagnosis. It was not just a bad case of influenza. Family gathered for a subdued Christmas, thinking that my mother was recovering from influenza. Instead, it was a cerebellar hemorrhage, a result of an arteriovenous malformation (AVM), which was a birth defect. Mom did not have any symptoms before the AVM leaked on 12/16/1999. If it had ruptured, my mother would have died instantly.

Late on New Year's Eve 1999, a Friday, as New Year's Day approached, family members were gathered around my mother's ICU bed. Mom was still in a coma. Medical staff were concerned about possible year 2000 (Y2K) computer problems. At midnight, I whispered, “Happy New Year, Mom.” I hoped that she could hear me.

Mom was hospitalized in two hospitals for 110 days. Surgery repaired the cerebellar hemorrhage. In shifts, family members stayed with my mother around the clock. The day shift was usually mine. Finally, my mother recovered well enough to return home on Saturday, 4/15/2000, a cool and clear day. Outpatient physical therapy was continued by in-home physical therapy. On Thanksgiving 2000, the day before my mother's 68th birthday, she looked and felt better than she had since her hospitalizations. She said, “I think I can see some light at the end of the tunnel!” The next day, her birthday, she felt pain in her side.

The pain was not a pulled muscle from the in-home physical therapy that my mother was doing. Instead, it was bone cancer. The cancer spread quickly to her lungs and liver. Mom had not had any diagnosis or symptoms until her 68th birthday.

On Christmas Eve 2000, a Sunday, I followed the ambulance that brought my mother home from hospice care at the hospital. Before we left the hospital, my mother said to me, “You all need to let me go. I want to go see Jesus.” Mom wanted to die at home. Three days later, on Wednesday, 12/27/2000, at 5:15 PM, Mom went to see Jesus.

This section has only been an encapsulation of the prolonged memories of loss around Christmas. Many memories, tucked away in the background through the year, come to the forefront around Christmas. If you have stayed with me so far, you must be able to relate.

Overcoming

The days of the week in December 2023 were the same as in 2000. The days also matched in 2006 and 2017. Once again, I managed to clear the dreary clouds and climb out of the dark cave toward the sunlight. Thankfully, I suppressed and overcame the memories of family illnesses and losses around Christmas. I did so by focusing on day-to-day activities and events. Also, I interjected humor as often as I could. Filling my thoughts with these helped suppress the bad memories. The daily diary, which follows, shares what I did to overcome the bad memories.

Christmas Eve, Sunday, 12/24/2023: On Christmas Eve, Sunday, in 2000, I followed the ambulance that brought my mother home to “go see Jesus” three days later. On Christmas Eve 2002, a Tuesday, I followed my youngest brother as he brought our father home from the hospital. The initial prognosis gave him six more months to live. God, however, answered my prayer of desperation while driving by granting my father over five more years of life. I remember saying to God that I would literally go insane if, two years to the day after following the ambulance for my mother, I was doing the same for my father.

Last Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday. My wife and I drove in my 2006 Frontier to visit my “adoptive sister,” Carol Sue, her daughter, and her daughter's three children (two young adult sons and a teenage daughter). We met the wife of one of my “adoptive great nephews.” (The short story from 8/5/2023 explains how my sister and I adopted each other!) The six family members were staying in a rental cabin near Gatlinburg, Tennessee. After having negotiated the narrow and curvy roads, which rolled up and down several hills, we enjoyed a wonderful family visit! Driving back home, my wife and I dined at an area Shoney's restaurant. It was a rich and full day. The weather was unseasonably warm, sunny, and windy. The activity kept my mind from dwelling on Christmas Eves in 2000 and 2002.

Christmas Day, Monday, 12/25/2023: On Christmas Day in 1982, Papaw Wood became ill. Mom's illness on Christmas in 1999 had been misdiagnosed as influenza. She was hospitalized three days later. On Christmas Day 2000, a Monday, my mother would live two more days before going “to see Jesus.” Dad's last Christmas was in 2007, a Tuesday. He lived another month.

This last Christmas, on a Monday, was a rainy, springlike day. I had spoken by phone with my youngest brother on Christmas Eve. My wife and I gathered with her family—her father, two younger sisters, niece, and first cousin—at her father's nearby house. A family friend was also present. Focusing on the conversations and activities, my mind didn't dwell too much on the bad Christmas memories. My next-to-youngest brother and I spoke by phone. I left my brother, next to me in age, a phone message.

Back home, Molly, our eight-year-old “puppy,” entertained my wife and me. I avoided watching any televised Christmas movies. The events of the day kept my mind from dwelling on memories of bad Christmases.

Tuesday, 12/26/2023: It was another rainy, springlike day. My adoptive sister, Carol Sue, called to say that the family had made it safely from Gatlinburg back to their Missouri homes. My brother, next to me in age, returned my call. These and other activities helped.

I must add one item! To my “long-suffering” wife, whom I call Mrs. Appalachian Irishman, I apologize! My wife likes to fall asleep with the bedroom television on. Usually, the remote is beside her. At 9:37 PM, I photographed my wife asleep in our bed with the remote still in her hand!

That humor helped! Again, I'm sorry, dear! I did crop the image to not show your face!

Wednesday, 12/27/2023: On Wednesday, 12/27/2000, my mother “went to see Jesus” at 5:15 PM. Today, the morning clouds cleared, and the afternoon sun shone brilliantly. Online, I bought and downloaded eight classic rock songs, which I realized were not in my collection. That simple activity helped. I enjoyed listening to the songs.

Moments before 5:15 PM, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked out the large double windows. Looking southeast, as dusk was bringing on the night, I could see our backyard and the ridgeline beyond it. I noticed that the time was 5:15 PM. Remaining calm and silent, I could hear my wife in the kitchen and Molly in the backyard. I paused in memory of my mother's passing. I pause similarly every year. Afterward, I always get up and resume whatever activity had been occupying my time.

Thursday, 12/28/2023: On Tuesday, 12/28/1999, my two younger brothers and I followed the ambulance that took our mother to the hospital. In unison at the emergency room, we demanded that our mother be admitted. My next-to-youngest brother stayed that first night shift with her. I relieved him early the next morning.

On Thursday, 12/28/2000, the day after my mother's passing, we arranged her visitation, funeral, and graveside ceremony. I remember standing with my father when he selected the casket.

Today, I took Molly, our beloved “old puppy,” for her annual physical examination. The appointment was at 8 AM. The weather was mostly sunny and somewhat cooler. My wife, who still wasn't fully over her mild cold, took herself to a nearby medical clinic. Later, I picked up her prescriptions at a local pharmacy. We also had the pleasure of a surprise fill-up of our underground propane tank! Molly was glad to see Gordon again! (Reading the 10/31/2022 article will help you understand!)

The activities of this full, rich day kept the bad memories from that day of 24 years ago in their place. I am glad that daily activities kept me busy. My wife, by the way, recovered fully.

Again, I must add a point of humor at the expense of my wife! To my “long-suffering” wife, I apologize again, dear! My wife had fallen asleep again with the bedroom television on and the remote in her hand! Once again, this time at 9:57 PM, I photographed my wife asleep in our bed with the remote still in her hand!

Yes, her family has already seen both photographs! I cropped the image. Thanks, dear, for giving me an opportunity for humor to help as I remembered 12/28/1999.

Friday, 12/29/2023: The visitation and funeral for my mother were on Friday evening, 12/29/2000, at the East Rogersville Baptist Church in my hometown. Joining the large gathering of family, friends, and church family was the surprise visit by my adoptive sister, Carol Sue, and her husband, Mike!

Today, my attempt to have an annual physical examination failed. The appointment was at 8:30 AM. The weather was cloudy and cool. The light snow melted before it could accumulate. Unknown to me beforehand, my fine doctor and friend had changed networks. I declined the offer for an examination at the self-pay cost, which was extremely high. Conducting my own physical examination, I determined that I am healthy, active, and fit. Later, I busied myself by hauling off the trash and recycling, filling up my truck with gas, and buying groceries.

At the grocery store, an employee with whom I enjoy talking shared that his uncle had passed away that morning. I hope that my words of comfort encouraged him. Our final point of conversation was about seeing deceased family members again in heaven when we join them.

I started writing this article. Writing it, however, was bringing up too many bad memories around Christmastime. I didn't think that I would finish it.

Saturday, 12/30/2023: The graveside service for my mother was on Saturday, 12/30/2000. The high temperature was about 15 degrees Fahrenheit with a bitterly cold wind blowing from the northeast. Family members sat on cold metal folding chairs. The minister, family members, and several friends endured the frigid weather as we said our final farewell. I still have some roses, which had frozen, at the gravesite.

Today was cloudy and cool. I awakened at about 4:30 AM with a congested nose. Running salt water twice through my nose using a neti pot decongested me. I called and spoke with my youngest brother. (We're still trying to figure out how to get Christmas presents to his daughters! Seeing each other on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day hadn't worked out.) I enjoyed the 4 PM Orange Bowl. The 6th-ranked Georgia Bulldogs destroyed the 5th-ranked Florida State Seminoles, 66-3.

Well, those activities fairly well distracted my mind from those of 12/30/2000. I tried to write more on this article, but bad memories came back too quickly.

New Year's Eve, Sunday, 12/31/2023: On New Year's Eve 1999, my mother was in a coma in the intensive care unit. It was a Friday. A year later, on New Year's Eve Sunday, 12/31/2000, at my father's request, my wife and I joined him for the morning worship service at the East Rogersville Baptist Church. My youngest brother and his new wife also attended. (They were married on 5/6/2000. I was honored to perform the ceremony. Mom was able to attend in a wheelchair.)

This New Year's Eve (12/31/2023) was also on a Sunday. The weather was sunny, windy, and mild. The temperature was in the low 50s Fahrenheit. After worship, what else could I do? I hiked House Mountain for the 188th time! (This article is also included as the 60th entry under the Hiking topic section.)

If you say that I only walked the two loop trails at the base of the mountain near the upper and lower parking lots, I won't disagree. It still counts as my tenth House Mountain hike in 2023! I didn't hike up the ridge to a bluff, since my truck and I still had to go to the Tractor Supply to buy Molly some dog food and treats.

The east loop is three-tenths of a mile. The west loop is shorter, at two-tenths of a mile. Both parking lots were full, so I had to park my truck on the shoulder near the lower parking lot. I hiked, or walked, if you prefer, the east loop to the upper parking lot, where the information board, fancy two-seater outhouse, and covered picnic area are located. I continued onto the west loop. Backtracking, I hiked back on the west loop and onto the east loop. That made only one easy mile of hiking. Stopping to enjoy the limited views, I hiked from 3:01 to 3:31 PM, thirty minutes exactly. Thirty minutes in the woods, even on the loop trails, was better than not having been there!

I took the photograph below at 3:21 PM. I had just started hiking back out on the east trail. The setting sun was behind me.

The rock steps in the lower right of the image continue the trail down. The trail, winding up, across, around, and down, leads back to the lower parking lot.

Remember, when small men cast tall shadows, the sun is setting in the west! With shoes on, I stand almost six feet tall. The image casts a very tall shadow of this Appalachian Irishman! The hiking politics of this is that small leaders of this once-great nation are leading our beloved nation into what I call “Socialist Utopian Oblivion.” That's my political soapbox. I'm done. Dad, who followed politics, would have enjoyed my soapbox!

New Year's Day, Monday, 1/1/2024: On New Year's Day in 2000, my mother's prolonged recovery had just begun. Then, only God knew that she would recover well enough just to endure the other illness that took her from us. On New Year's Day in 2001, a Monday, life, such as it was, continued without my mother. On New Year's Day in 2008, we knew that my father's ticker didn't have many ticks left. Dad's heart stopped beating twenty-four days later.

This year, New Year's Day also fell on a Monday. The weather was cool and cloudy. At home, I swept and vacuumed. My wife dusted. I watched some of the ReliaQuest Bowl, which started at 12 PM, to see 13th-ranked LSU beat unranked Wisconsin, 35-31. It was fun to watch 21st-ranked Tennessee dominate 17th-ranked Iowa, 35-0, in the Citrus Bowl (1 PM start).

Later, I watched the college football playoff semifinal games. Our good neighbor, Chuck, was disappointed to watch 4th-ranked Alabama fall in overtime to 1st-ranked Michigan in the Rose Bowl, 20-27. The game started at 5 PM. Molly, inside with us by then, was hoping that her buddy, Chuck, would not be sad. With Molly by my side, I saw and spoke with Chuck the next day. He took the loss well.

The Sugar Bowl started at 8:45 PM. My wife was in bed as usual at about 9 PM, just after Molly bedded down for the night in her basement condominium. (By the way, my wife now sleeps with both arms under the covers. With her asleep and the bedroom television on, I find the remote on top of the covers, safely away from her hands!) Alone in the living room, I watched some of the Sugar Bowl. The next morning, I learned that 2nd-ranked Washington had beaten 3rd-ranked Texas, 37-31. I had wanted Texas to win since Washington state is a socialist mecca and Texas doesn't seem to be! (Okay, that's another political soapbox. I'm off of it now.)

Conclusion

Having read carefully, dear reader, you probably already know why this article is included in the topic section, Light at the End of the Tunnel, and why the section is so named. The 12/26/2021 article includes a subsection titled “Light at the end of the tunnel, the Backdrop (written 8/25/2016).” On Thanksgiving, 2000, my mother felt and looked better than she had before her illness. She said, “I think I can see some light at the end of the tunnel!” If and when I complete and publish my book, it will be titled “Light at the End of the Tunnel.”

How do I overcome losses around Christmas? The memory-filled emotions arise. I battle against them. I force myself not to dwell on them. Instead, I engross myself in the activities of the day. Also, I find or create something important on which to focus. Further, I force myself to think about good memories around Christmas. Finally, I find or interject humor as often as I can. I have been doing this for 23 years. (As recent examples, the 12/29/2020 article and the first article from 12/29/2021 mention my efforts around Christmas in those years.) I think each Christmas season will be easier. Each season usually starts off easier. As the days draw closer to and pass Christmas, however, my struggle intensifies.

Thinking about and writing articles, such as this one, bring up the bad memories. I have been working on the draft for this article a little every day since last Friday. I almost didn't finish it. By finishing and publishing it today, however, I can clear out and return the bad memories to their places of safekeeping until they come back again.

The main way that I overcome losses around Christmas is to focus on the everlasting. I will see Papaw Wood, my mother, my father, and so many other beloved family members and friends once again! Their heavenly joy is complete and beyond my full ability to understand.

Praying and reading the Bible help, of course. While working on this article, I read the pericope in the Gospel of John, chapters 14-16. The setting was the Passover meal in the upper room. Jesus comforted his disciples before his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. Please read the pericope. I focus now on the following three verses in chapter 16, where Jesus said:

Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy (verse 20, NIV).

So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again, and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy (verse 22, NIV).

I have told you these things so that in me, you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world (verse 33, NIV).

The disciples must have recalled and been comforted by Jesus' words when they faced their upcoming grief. Jesus was taken from them, but he arose and was with them until he ascended back to heaven (Luke chapter 24; John 20:1-21:25; Acts 1:1-11). Their grief was turned to joy, which no one could take from them.

The Christmas season, from Thanksgiving to New Year's Day, brings rejoicing and grief. We, who grieve, will have our grief turned to everlasting joy. When we “go see Jesus” and join many beloved family members and friends, we will rejoice everlastingly, and no one can take away that joy. In the world, we face trouble and sorrow, but we take heart and find peace through Christ, who has overcome the world!