A few minutes ago, I was sitting outside in the freezing cold looking at the sky while the dogs powdered their noses. A plane was sailing overhead. I wondered where it was going. I could look down the street and see a handful of houses all lit up with Christmas lights, just like mine. Some people prefer all clear lights, but at my house colored always wins out. Maybe it's the Tennessee coming out in me. Maybe clear lights are just a little too straight and narrow for my family.
This time of year is tough nowadays. I miss my Dad, and it's hard to explain to two extremely excited kids why Mommy feels sad at Christmas. My Grief Guru says that this year will be easier than last, and next year will be easier than this one-- so on and so forth. I've long suspected, due to her taste in hairstyles (among other things) and her penchant for vests that she may be crazy as hell. Regardless, what am I to do except believe her? Emotionally, it's my best option, I guess.
B is serving jury duty this week, sitting as a juror on a child neglect case. I hate the thought of that-- that there are kids that are cold or hungry or don't have medicine when they are ill. Or even worse than that, that nobody even cares that they are cold or hungry or sick. I may not be the greatest Mom ever, but my kids will never suffer neglect in any way, shape, or form. When I die, they will still have lots of people who love them. They are lucky that way.
You see, when I lost my Dad, I lost a great big chunk of "the people who love me." My Mom loves me. B loves me. My kids love me. Aunt Tina and Ro and a handful of friends love me. I'm lucky that way, too. I am grateful for them all, but I still miss the way my Dad made me feel. When people disappear from your lives, in whatever capacity they once were in it, it leaves a hole that just doesn't go away. You can't fill it with something else (I've tried), you can't ignore it (tried that too), it's just there. It hurts. Case closed.
So this is Christmas, and I'm hanging in there. It's confusing and uncomfortable, but it is what it is, and I can't change it. I would if I could. I put up the tree, hung the lights, and wrapped a few gifts. I haven't thrown anything at the mall Santa or started involuntarily swearing when Christmas music comes on the radio. I'm missing some people I love, though. I suspect that's part of life.