I distinctly remember the year I lost my Christmas. I didn’t lose the meaning of the season or my appreciation for the birth of my Lord and Saviour. It was His strength that got me through it all but hovering above my Christmas was a dark cloud, a memory. For me, this cloud hovered almost a decade. I felt it every time she relapsed. It lifted during times when she was doing well and then returned with each stumble backwards. Its name is grief.
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