Twice a week John played tennis with the guys from work. He loved his work and the camaraderie of his co-workers. No matter how crazy the workload, he made sure that tennis was on his calendar. But in the two years since his wife, Julia felt the lump in her breast he found no joy in either tennis or his friendships.

John and Julia had been married 10 years when she was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer throwing them into what became a frantic and failed medical journey. They had a two-year-old daughter, a beautiful new home and a happy life built on love.

Julia loved Christmas and passionately decorated for the holiday. They hosted numerous holiday parties inviting his co-workers, family and friends. Julia, an architect, liked to create beautiful environments and Christmas was the holiday that most inspired her. They enjoyed shopping for their daughter. John was proud of his wife, her beauty and quick mind. He liked to buy her one special gift at Christmas, usually a piece of jewelry or something for the house. John shopped with a heavy heart the Christmas Julie was ill knowing that he could not buy her the only gift she wanted; life.

When they talked about their daughter, tears streamed down Julia’s face. John wanted to save Julia, and he wanted their life to be like it was before the illness. Chemotherapy treatments made party planning, decorating and shopping impossible tasks for Julia. John could not muster the energy to do it for her. He hired someone to decorate their tree and hang lights. Even if it did not feel like Christmas, it would look like Christmas at their house.

When Julia died, one year after her diagnosis, John felt that he had also died. Routine chores like going to the grocery store or making dinner became burdensome. While his sister and mother helped, he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Oddly, he was relieved by Julia’s death. It pained him to watch her suffer, to see her sadness when she held their daughter and to watch her beauty fade. John was learning that the anguish of grief could be as intense as the joy of love.

John did not return to work for a month after her death. He avoided all conversations about his wife and their ordeal. Although he tried hard to focus, John found it difficult to concentrate on work.

His employer and his clients were understanding, and temporarily shifted his responsibilities.

After several months, he began to play tennis once a week. He didn’t play well, but it felt good to use his muscles. One day in the locker room after a match, his friend Mike asked about Julia. John found it too painful to talk about her. He hurried to pack his things and left the club. Alone, John cried in the car.

The first Christmas after Julia’s death, John thought that decorating their tree would be too painful. His mother and sister insisted that he celebrate the holiday for his daughter’s sake. Relenting, John agreed to let them decorate their tree. Although the lovely tree and festive room evoked painful memories of Julia’s passion for the season, he was buoyed by his daughter’s joy.