It was my therapist’s suggestion that I buy some new furniture.  She thought changing the house around might help me cope better with the constant reminders of James’ absence. Trudy, my 70-pound lapdog didn’t mind the rearrangement up until the one and only chair she was allowed in went in the trash.  

The chair was long overdue for disposal – springs were poking out the back, fabric was worn through in several places and I was on my second set of slipcovers for it. But it was the one piece of living room furniture I allowed her to be on and Trudy was eager to snuggle with anyone willing to share the space with her. 

I moved the furniture full of memories downstairs to a mostly-finished room, where the new arrangement might displace most of the reminders and allow me to make new associations with the couches we had picked out together.  New furniture was delivered for the living room, changing the feel of the space entirely.   

The first few evenings I sat in the living room, enjoying the couch and the chair and ottoman, a pair of sad brown eyes rested on my leg. Trudy gave me the most pitiful look, as though she was truly neglected since she couldn’t sit with me. A few nights later, when I eventually sat downstairs to watch some TV, she was there again, head on my knee, sad eyes laying a silent guilt trip. 

I realized at that moment that my therapist was right.  We need to do everything we can to infuse our lives with as much joy as we can. So, I pulled a blanket from the basket and hardly had to tap twice on the seat next to me before Trudy bounded up and settled right in against me, taking up at least two thirds of the couch herself.  Within minutes she was sound asleep, happy as a dog can be. In fact, that’s where she is right now, completely at peace and thrilled to be next to me.  Joy, wrapped up in a whole lot of fur. 

I’ve known since I was young how short life can be, and the importance of treasuring every moment we have, but finding my way back to joy since James died has been a long, tough road.  He brought a tremendous amount of joy into my life and I have really struggled to feel it again in his absence.  I am learning – at a snail’s pace perhaps, but I am learning –  to let joy seep in through the small moments, like when a happy dog is curled up beside me.  

It would be easy, in the world we live in today, to fill ourselves with worry, fear, angst and anxiety.  It would be understandable for all of us facing loss or trauma in any form, to turn to despair or to lose sight of hope.  But the thing James brought in abundance to this life was joy and it is that exact thing that I miss so dearly about him. It’s what we all could use far more of.  So, this holiday season, and for the whole year through, I hope you let joy seep into your daily moments as well.  Let the dog on the couch, let the chickens on the porch, fill the bird feeders so the cat can watch and definitely book that vacation to the coast.  James taught me that joy is all that really matters and I owe it to him to live it, to create it, to share it and celebrate it.  I wish you all a season, a year, a life, filled with joy.