“I found Tanner! Lil’ brother…. we’re coming to find you!” my nephew yelled as he ran down the hallway, through the living room and up the stairs.
This game of hide and seek took place this evening. Tanner was sitting in the living room; instead of the skinny, smiling boy that would have taken up residence on one of the couches, there sat a box of ashes wearing a Santa hat.
A few weeks ago, when we first made plans with my sister to join her family for Christmas, it was never the plan or intention to take Tanner with us. Every other trip he’s held down the fort from his prominent position on my nightstand. His precious little glasses atop the box, should he need to see clearly to thwart the bad guys. But as we packed up to leave, Travis made it clear that we were not to leave his brother behind.
Not on Christmas.
This is one of those pivotal moments where I had a choice to make. I could easily let my emotion follow my heart and sink into a puddle of tears and clasp my arms around his box… it’s what I felt like doing. Or I could make the choice to make the best of this truly shitty situation.
WWTD?
What would Tanner do? And better yet, what would he want us to do? I can tell you one thing: he sure as heck wouldn’t want to see either of us shed a tear. He would smile, and laugh, and do goofy faces to catch us off-guard, he would get down and bust a move, and then put his feet behind his head to use as a pillow.
Because that was Tanner.
Even when he was sick. Even when he was in pain… he chose joy.
There is a powerful lesson in the life he lived.
As we were leaving the house, I picked up Tanner, we walked to the closet and fetched a Santa hat — I had insisted all Snyders don proper Christmas attire — grabbed the keys and hit the road.
To set the tone, Trav and I took a selfie with Tanner in the middle of us, right where he has always and will always belong.
I’ll be honest, I was a little unsure of the reception Travis and I would receive when we walked in with gifts in one hand and the remnants of my dead son in the other. (Is this not the standard hostess gift?) While I recognize some may be uneasy about the presence of ashes, I find comfort in having him close by. I know the soul of my baby is in Heaven with his Father, but for a momma who longs to touch her baby, I’ll take what I can get.
As I walked into my sister’s — box of ashes under my arm — I asked how “excited” they were going to be to have him present and if they needed him to be off in a corner, out of sight.
My sister hesitated. “Well… do we have permission to —“ and I cut her off.
“Permission granted.”
I knew where she was going… Do we have permission to laugh with him there. Do we have permission to make a funny joke at his expense. Do we have permission to be totally inappropriate and irreverent?
Permission granted.
So there he was plopped. Right in the middle of the cookie decorating festivities… right where my baby belonged. A few comments were thrown his way and, like normal, he ignored us completely. He couldn’t be bothered to pass the frosting even once. But hey — that’s Tanner for you.
We took him into the family room to watch A Christmas Story with us and felt stupid when we realized we had faced him backwards. “Duh… Gotta turn him around so he can see the movie!”
For the first time since he died, I felt him with us. As the kids played hide and seek, Jacob calls out with all seriousness “I found Tanner!” as he ran past Tanner, sitting on the coffee table. Tanner always sucked at hiding.
I think today, we all found a bit of Tanner.
I know I reclaimed a bit of me, too.
Today we gave ourselves permission to laugh with each other, and with him. He sure as heck would be laughing. We gave ourselves permission to not be perfect, to skip the protocols and sentimentalities that drain so much of our emotion and energy.
Pain is exhausting. Joy is liberating.
Yes, my mind has wandered a few times and I have been jolted by the reality of the situation. My heart had fluttered into my throat more than once tonight as I long for my baby to join his brother, cousins, mama, grandma, aunt and uncle. Tears have welled as I strain to hear the whispers of joy that echo from the memories of Christmases past.
Travis and I have also laughed today, we’ve played and told stories, mocked my love life (or lack thereof), dressed up a box containing the ashes of the most vibrant angel I’ve ever known, and celebrated our family’s Christmas Eve.
Not only did I reconnect with my baby today in a very honest way, but I was forced to recognize a hard truth: happiness is truly a choice. There is not a day that goes by that I am not faced with some level of pain, stress, disappointment or drama… but regardless, I am reminded that we always have the option to pursue happiness.
Like my baby in Heaven, like our Tan-Man, Travis and I choose joy.
Well…. joy and dressing up boxes of ashes. Up next: sequins.
