The phone call came two days before Christmas – my sister’s husband and teenage son had been killed in a car accident. My heart broke for her unimaginable loss. But when she asked me to cancel our annual family Christmas party, I found myself torn between compassion and tradition.
“I’m sorry for your pain,” I told her gently, “but we can’t let grief cancel joy for everyone else.” The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. I told myself I was making the right decision, that life must go on, but doubt nagged at me as I continued decorating the tree.
During our holiday toast, a loud crash from the nursery sent me running. There stood my sister, red-eyed and trembling, her surviving son helping her pack up the baby clothes and toys she’d lent me – precious items that had belonged to her lost child. “You don’t deserve these memories,” she whispered, her voice raw with pain. The accusation in her eyes – that I’d failed her as a sister – cut deeper than any words. As our guests watched the heartbreaking scene unfold, I realized too late that sometimes, pressing pause on celebration is the only gift we can give to those we love.
