By Les Ferguson, Jr.

Columnist

Christmas 2011 was a Christmas I hope never to repeat. Two and a half months earlier, my wife and son were murdered. 

Whether or not you’ve read anything I’ve written before, the sentence above should be enough for you to know our lives were torn asunder that day. The aftermath was soul-crushing. I look back on it now and marvel at where we are today. 

But at any rate, Christmas 2011. It was warm as usual in Gulfport. Shorts, t-shirts, and flip-flops were standard attire. With tropical temperatures, you wouldn’t be wearing a Christmas sweater, ugly or not. 

I somehow managed to buy a live tree and get it flocked, set up, and decorated. By a Herculean effort combined with a healthy dose of dumb luck, it looked like Christmas in our house. But it certainly didn’t feel like it. 

One of my oldest friends just wrote a book, “Merry Christmas to a Broken Heart.”  It’s about grief and getting through the holidays. I couldn’t have read it that season. My grief was too fresh and too intense. If the holidays are difficult for you, I understand more than I want to.

But back to Christmas 2011. I was trying to buy for my kids all alone for the first time. Amazon became my best buddy as most of their presents were purchased online, save a few that my wife had put on layaway just before her and my son’s deaths. 

In time, I went to cancel the layaway for my deceased son. It was traumatic, but then it got worse. I couldn’t cancel it. I had to purchase the whole layaway and then return it all. 

When I say it was traumatic, that’s an understatement. I wept through the whole ordeal. Holding those things my son wanted and never got to see ripped a new hole in my heart. It was like the proverbial rubbing salt into the wound. 

But finally, it was Christmas morning. The facial expressions of my surviving children are forever engraved in my mind. Seeing them with their sad little smiles as they opened their Christmas presents broke my heart then and now. 

Somehow, against all odds, we made it through. We survived. We may not have thrived that first year, but God, grace, and time have been good to us. 

Loss and grief may get more manageable, but they never go away. It’s been my experience that grief often makes itself known when you least expect it. Because the coming holidays may be hard for you, let me encourage you with these words: 

“He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds. He counts the number of the stars; he gives names to all of them. Our Lord is great, vast in power; his understanding is infinite.”

(Psalms‬ 147‬:3‬-5‬ CSB‬‬)

Grace and peace to all!