Advent 25
Wednesday, Fourth Week of Advent
21 December 2022
“Grief is love’s souvenir. It’s our proof that we once loved. Grief is the receipt we wave in the air that says to the world — ‘Look! Love was once mine. I love well. Here is my proof that I paid the price.’” - Glennon Doyle
I think a lot of us have paid this price. We have CVS receipt-long, duly earned, love receipts. I know because I’ve read about them. It’s been my privilege to hold space for your stories and an honor to read them this advent season. As for me, I’m excited to join this chorus of voices for this asynchronous moment of connection with you all.
I’m not the most religious person you’ll find in the Hamilton Community, nor the most spiritual. For me, as silly as it sounds, I quote authors like Glennon Doyle, Brené Brown, or Oprah Winfrey, almost as if their words are my form of scripture. Their words have become my crutch as I have turned inward and grappled with intense trauma and grief.
In 2021 I lost my father (53) to a senseless act of gun violence, and my uncle (45) to COVID-19. Both major losses in my life that have truly shook my soul to its core. However, to keep one foot in front of the other, and get out of bed each morning, I hold tight to my heart the idea that I’m not alone. The death toll from COVID-19 is in the millions, and 108 people die each day from gun violence in America. That’s a lot of families who have experienced a similar trauma. Their love receipts, and maybe one of yours, look painfully similar to my own.
How we move through life with it though, is our own personal journeys. That's the battle I’m going through at 21, knowing my eventual partner and kids will never get to meet two of the men that have made me who I am today. As I’ve picked up the pieces of my life, resettling and finding the new me has been a tough challenge. Particularly during the holiday season.
Christmas traditions were steadfast in my family, and all I knew. They were a piece of who I was, and what I valued as a person. Now, reluctant to return to those traditions without them, my family forges on. This year my family spent Thanksgiving with relatives in Maryland and last year, Christmas in Florida. This year, on Friday, we have plans to return to the warm beaches of the sunshine state once again.
A few months after my fathers death, I met with a psychic medium who told me I would feel connected to my father on a beach, and it’s where he has been spending his time in the afterlife. This tracked, as my Dad always loved spending time on the water. So, to Florida we go, in hopes of feeling more connected to the man we loved so deeply. Hopefully he can hear us as we proudly wave our love receipts in the salty ocean air.
This Christmas to get through, I hope you find your sunny beaches, places of connection, or books to hold tight. Most importantly, I hope you remember that no matter how desperately you want to use that receipt for a return to get your loved one back, know that you aren’t alone, and there’s a whole community of people behind you, who wish they could do the same.
Merry Christmas from my family to yours,
Lelan O’Brien ’23
