Twelve Years of Chistmas

Our son died of a brain tumor. This year is our twelfth Christmas without him. We live every day without him here. This is our life. As a family, and as individuals, we are trying still to figure out how to live our lives with such a crucial, vital, essential, important person constantly missing. The presence of his absence colors everything. Always.

Theo died February 20, 2006. That year was horrid. That first Christmas without him was a kind of black hole that is hard to describe. I have said many times that when my son died I realized how very little I knew. I still do not know much. The mysteries I have been confronted with offer very few clear answers. But I do know and can see that things have evolved. Things get different and sometimes that means “better,” and sometimes it just means different. It’s better that I can sing Christmas carols and actually enjoy doing it. It’s better that I can shop for gifts and not have a breakdown in a store, that I can go into a store at all is better. It is easier to put up the tree than it was before. Still hard. But a little easier.

To think that it has been 12 years since our first Christmas without him is kind of amazing to me. In many ways it really doesn’t seem that long. Considering the increased amount of stress we have endured over these 12 years, I would think it would seem longer. Shakespeare said, “Grief makes one hour ten.” I know in the early years that feels absolutely true. Right now though, twelve years seem to have passed by, not quite in a blink, but pretty quickly. Strange. But still. Twelve years is a long time. Relatively speaking. Always. Time is weird. I know that Christmas will continue to come for however long I am still breathing here on this planet without my first-born child. And that never gets better. But there are things that are easier. And I know that the love and kindness in Theo’s Stocking has made each year a little easier. Love and kindness really are the only things that make this grief any easier.

I would like to tell you the story of that first year.

Thelonius Luther Helbert Fueglein died on February 20, 2006 at nine months old. Theo was diagnosed at 3 months old with a brain tumor, a choroid plexus carcinoma. A very rare and deadly brain tumor.

The first Christmas after Theo died, 2006, I decided initially that I was not going to have Christmas. I did not feel celebratory; I did not want to have the holiday without my baby. But we had moved into a new house, we were planning to stay home instead of traveling to family celebrations—which I did not want to face. And so, I decided to decorate the tree and the house as if he were here, to honor him and also to have something to focus on. When I opened the box with Theo's stocking inside—a sweet little felt stocking, made by Theo's great-grandmother—and hung it by the chimney with care, I was struck by what that one small act really meant. In hanging the stocking, I was acknowledging our son's presence in our lives and honoring him as our child, but realized at the same time, that on Christmas morning there would be nothing in his stocking.

The image in my mind of the stocking hanging, flat and empty was so painful. And I did not want to put gifts in the stocking, candies, toys or other stuffers, which we would then open "for him." Imagining that scenario felt pitiful and hurtful. I did not know what to do. I just sat and looked at the stocking. I knew I could not take it down. It was Theo's. I would never, and will never, do anything to remove his memory, his presence, his place in our family, from our lives. But the empty stocking seemed a terribly looming symbol for everything we were missing.

And then I had an idea.

I raced upstairs to the computer and sent out an email asking our family and friends for help. This is what I sent:

Dear Friends,

Sorry this is kind of late--I just thought of it. We have a stocking hung for Theo (made by his great-grandmother, Jamie's grandmother) with a pretty dragonfly pin on it. I got really sad thinking that there will be nothing to put into his stocking for Christmas. And all of a sudden I thought of something really nice that all of you could do to help give Theo a present. And to help us feel a little better on Christmas. Sometime between now and Christmas, do something nice for someone, no matter how small or large, it doesn't have to involve money--just commit a random act of kindness. When you do it, think of Theo and dedicate that act to him and his sweet spirit. Please write it down and send it to me through e-mail. I won't read it. I will print it out and put it in his stocking and then on Christmas morning, we will open up all the notes and read them. If even only a few of you do this, we will have a really beautiful thing to share on Christmas in our sweet baby's memory and someone else (the recipient of your kindness) will benefit by a true example of the spirit of Christmas. I will pray that all of us will be struck by inspiration, that something will come to each of us, some kindness that we can share of ourselves, in Theo's name and in his memory, to benefit someone else. Thank you so much for your participation and your continued love and support,

Karla and Jamie

We received more emails that I ever imagined we would. People forwarded it on to others and I started getting mails in my inbox from people I didn't even know, from all over the country and from 3 other countries as well. It meant so much to us. Reading those kindnesses done in Theo’s memory and dedicated to his spirit got me through that terrible first Christmas morning without him. We continued the tradition the following year, 2007, as well.

The third year, I felt a little different. It wasn't as important to me to have the acts of kindness as tangible somethings in his stocking. It was just part of the way grief changes over time. I didn't need that physical act for myself anymore. I didn’t even need it for just him anymore. But I did want to continue the tradition of doing the acts of kindness in his memory. So I started Theo’s Stocking blog here and for the past 10 years, we have posted stories of the acts of kindness that people continued to send so that anyone who wanted to could share in the love. Even just reading the kindnesses makes your heart a little lighter and a little warmer.

Continuing the tradition of doing kindnesses in his memory brings the knowledge that the love, strength, beauty and goodness that he radiated still touches other people. I know that his love for us and ours for him continues to spread like waves of light into the Universe. One of the ways it does this is through simple acts of kindness that we choose to perform for no other reason than to help another person. And that is, of course, the true meaning of Christmas. It doesn't mean we have to spend a lot of money. It doesn't mean extravagance and isn't about feeling pressured to "do something." It can mean letting an extra car out in traffic—even when you are running late. It can mean holding open the elevator door for the person running to make it, taking the extra few minutes to really hear your co-worker's response to the routine "how are you?" It can be taking a bag of canned goods, even from your own pantry, to your community's Food Bank. It can mean giving your time to your church or volunteering for other charity. It can mean spending the few extra minutes to have a conversation with a neighbor or helping someone with their bags or leaving an extra $5 or $10 tip for your server.

We are all in need. When we find ourselves in times like these, times when we may feel frightened or bogged down in self-centered worries, the spirit of giving can truly provide, even if only for a moment, a respite from our own troubles, from our own anxieties and fears. For that brief moment we can be filled with that warmth of human kindness which is magnified by the act of giving of ourselves to others. If you try it, you will see.

We invite you to participate in filling Theo's stocking again this year. We invite you to do kindnesses in memory of your own beloveds who you are missing this season. We invite you to pass this forward, not only in your acts of kindness, but to others so they may have the opportunity participate, joining in to continue to spread the spirit of love and compassion through adding their own acts of kindness.

So, as I have asked every year:

Sometime between now and Christmas, do something nice for someone, no matter how small or large, it doesn't have to involve money--just commit a random act of kindness.  

If you would like to share it here at Theo’s Stocking, write it down and send it through email or Facebook Messenger.  Karlamarie@verizon.net or s2jafueg@vcu.edu

We will post your stories here on this blog as they are sent in so that we can all read and share in the kindness and love.

We wish a warm and safe and peaceful holiday to all.