This was a heck of a weekend, Thor. The holiday rush is upon us in a cascade of red and green, of gifts and festive gatherings, of traditions made rich with the love of friends and family. And we wonder moment by moment how we do this without you here. I find myself at odds with the expectation of carrying on and the desire to experience some joy here among the living. Some moments can be called good, these days, but most are hindered by the choking weed of sorrow that has taken root in the garden of my heart.
Dad and I went on a grand adventure yesterday. We decided that we are going to "do" Christmas this year as we have every year. There will be presents and a visit from Santa. I'll bake cookies and will prepare all our traditional favorites complete with ambrosia and mimosas on Christmas morning. There was shopping to do, so we sojourned on our annual trip to "the North Pole" as we always say, braving the crowds and moving shoulder to shoulder with our fellow Christmassers through store after store. It was a good day and also a very rough day. Many times I conveniently got lost for a moment or two so the tears that pooled in my eyes could slide down my face unnoticed by dad. I thought of you, and my heart broke over and over as we moved about the day and through the motions of preparing for this holiday without you.
Little things triggered a smile and fond memory alongside the tears. Monster Trucks in the toy aisle were especially moving for me. I have many memories of you and your brothers playing with the Monster Trucks, and then of watching them one TV each night. You and I liked Max-D while the rest of the family stuck with Grave Digger. Remember when we went to Monster Jam live? And the Monster Truck birthday cakes? And Christmases with Monster Truck tee shirts and pj's and remote control vehicles… I laid a finger on one little die-cast truck yesterday, and it all came flooding back.
Putting things in the cart in sets of two instead of three was another tough one. A million little paper cuts sliced my heart as we didn't have a list to fill for you. It was a silent omission as Dad and I selected things for your brothers, like usual. Stocking stuffers and sets of pj's, normally bought in threes all reduced in number by one-third.
We've had other milestones this year, the firsts of many important days that found me aching over your death more than words can say. But Christmas is different, it hurts more and in deeper places. It's so entwined in my memory with the magic-like happiness of my youth and, later your youth, too. We pass the joy we knew as children on to our own in the handing down of our favorite traditions, the ones that make our hearts sing. Christmas is pregnant with romantic illusion, it can elevate us to great heights of joy for those who are able to keep that spirit alive, or it can crush us under the weight of sadness when the chambers of our hearts are full of sorrow. I'm mostly in the latter state, I'm sorry to say. But I'm soldiering on, one step at a time and then another and another.
It's the grinding, ever-present grief and heartbreak that wears me down. I feel like I'm being ground into dust and that one good gust of wind could vanish me. And yet, somehow, inexplicably, I'm still here. My body still breathes the cool, clean air of a new morning and my heartbeat still quickens when I see something beautiful. I have hope that I won't live my whole life feeling like moon dust inside, devoid of life.
As if to prove this to myself, today I baked Christmas cookies. I made Russian Tea Cakes, poppy seed and nut rolls. Later this week I hope to roll out and ice the sugar cookies. But we'll see. I'm just glad I baked some cookies. All these things are so hard to do this year, and yet doing them is helping all of us feel a little better. Somehow, I feel like if I'm able to do Christmas by our tradition, it's doing so much more. We're looking for joy at a time when we could be easily consumed by a dark and sucking sorrow. So, I'm glad to have the fortitude (and Grace) to carry on, even if only in the modest action of baking some cookies.
Your cousin, Rani, graduated from JMU this weekend, too. What a great accomplishment for her. She struggled a lot during the spring semester after your accident. But now she's done and is preparing for the next adventure, in England. There was a gathering of family and friends at Nana's house this afternoon. I went over for a few minutes, but even if I didn't need to get back home, I couldn't have stayed. The tears I held back all week and then all day yesterday so we could get the big shopping done, finally started. The trigger, of course, was being in that roomful of the family who knows me so well and is hurting, too. They know I'm barely hanging in and there's no point in hiding it…cue the tears. Life is moving on for everyone, but it's your brothers' and cousins' new adventures that are so bittersweet. You should be here with them, celebrating, lending a smile, teasing and joking around. Mahi got married, Rani graduating from college, Madhuri is in school and working. The Bertram's are moving to England. Xanny has a girlfriend and Chaz is a published journalist for the college newspaper. So many things are happening that you aren't here to see and experience with us. That's one of the biggest things that guts me, the knowledge that we won't get to share more experiences together in this life. That just flat sucks.
I sense you being "here," but it's not the same you know. We're living on, continuing to play this game, whatever it's point, while you've slipped into a different dimension. You're here, and you're also everywhere. I'm not sure how that works. I suppose we all find out, in time.
Starr and Kenzie came over today. I hadn't given Starr her birthday gift, and I wanted to be sure she had it before she got her Christmas present. Kenzie brought your dad and me some sweet little gifts. I got a pair of cardinals that now sit near your portrait. As Kenzie said, they represent my visitor from Heaven; you! I also got a beautiful sign with the saying from Christopher Robin to Pooh Bear. "Don't forget, You are braver thank you think, Stronger than you seem, Smarter than you think and Loved more than you'll ever know." Blew me away. I am going to take it with me to work so I can see it all the time during the day. We had a good visit. It feels so good to hug Starr Baby. It's like you are there hugging us both. We watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas with Kenzie, shared some laughter and some tears, too. This time of year is really hard on us, Thor. Kenzie is really hurting, I know you know this already. Keep close to her, she's so young to have dealt with so much.
We're on the downhill slide toward Christmas and are closing in on the anniversary of the worst day of my life. I just don't know how to hold all these feelings in each moment, but I'm trying. I've felt you around me so strongly, lately. I swear I can hear your voice talking to me at times, encouraging and helping me find my way through the devastation. Sometimes I know you are trying to tell me something and my broken heart gets in the way of hearing. That's when you seem to find other ways to send me a message. Thank you for those, they help me keep the faith that we will continue to have a relationship in this new form.
The glow of the Christmas tree gently holds space for all these feelings and thoughts to surface. In the middle of the night, it's just you and me. Glad we found some time to chat, Thor. I miss you more than I can say.
Dad and I went on a grand adventure yesterday. We decided that we are going to "do" Christmas this year as we have every year. There will be presents and a visit from Santa. I'll bake cookies and will prepare all our traditional favorites complete with ambrosia and mimosas on Christmas morning. There was shopping to do, so we sojourned on our annual trip to "the North Pole" as we always say, braving the crowds and moving shoulder to shoulder with our fellow Christmassers through store after store. It was a good day and also a very rough day. Many times I conveniently got lost for a moment or two so the tears that pooled in my eyes could slide down my face unnoticed by dad. I thought of you, and my heart broke over and over as we moved about the day and through the motions of preparing for this holiday without you.
Little things triggered a smile and fond memory alongside the tears. Monster Trucks in the toy aisle were especially moving for me. I have many memories of you and your brothers playing with the Monster Trucks, and then of watching them one TV each night. You and I liked Max-D while the rest of the family stuck with Grave Digger. Remember when we went to Monster Jam live? And the Monster Truck birthday cakes? And Christmases with Monster Truck tee shirts and pj's and remote control vehicles… I laid a finger on one little die-cast truck yesterday, and it all came flooding back.
Putting things in the cart in sets of two instead of three was another tough one. A million little paper cuts sliced my heart as we didn't have a list to fill for you. It was a silent omission as Dad and I selected things for your brothers, like usual. Stocking stuffers and sets of pj's, normally bought in threes all reduced in number by one-third.
We've had other milestones this year, the firsts of many important days that found me aching over your death more than words can say. But Christmas is different, it hurts more and in deeper places. It's so entwined in my memory with the magic-like happiness of my youth and, later your youth, too. We pass the joy we knew as children on to our own in the handing down of our favorite traditions, the ones that make our hearts sing. Christmas is pregnant with romantic illusion, it can elevate us to great heights of joy for those who are able to keep that spirit alive, or it can crush us under the weight of sadness when the chambers of our hearts are full of sorrow. I'm mostly in the latter state, I'm sorry to say. But I'm soldiering on, one step at a time and then another and another.
It's the grinding, ever-present grief and heartbreak that wears me down. I feel like I'm being ground into dust and that one good gust of wind could vanish me. And yet, somehow, inexplicably, I'm still here. My body still breathes the cool, clean air of a new morning and my heartbeat still quickens when I see something beautiful. I have hope that I won't live my whole life feeling like moon dust inside, devoid of life.
As if to prove this to myself, today I baked Christmas cookies. I made Russian Tea Cakes, poppy seed and nut rolls. Later this week I hope to roll out and ice the sugar cookies. But we'll see. I'm just glad I baked some cookies. All these things are so hard to do this year, and yet doing them is helping all of us feel a little better. Somehow, I feel like if I'm able to do Christmas by our tradition, it's doing so much more. We're looking for joy at a time when we could be easily consumed by a dark and sucking sorrow. So, I'm glad to have the fortitude (and Grace) to carry on, even if only in the modest action of baking some cookies.
Your cousin, Rani, graduated from JMU this weekend, too. What a great accomplishment for her. She struggled a lot during the spring semester after your accident. But now she's done and is preparing for the next adventure, in England. There was a gathering of family and friends at Nana's house this afternoon. I went over for a few minutes, but even if I didn't need to get back home, I couldn't have stayed. The tears I held back all week and then all day yesterday so we could get the big shopping done, finally started. The trigger, of course, was being in that roomful of the family who knows me so well and is hurting, too. They know I'm barely hanging in and there's no point in hiding it…cue the tears. Life is moving on for everyone, but it's your brothers' and cousins' new adventures that are so bittersweet. You should be here with them, celebrating, lending a smile, teasing and joking around. Mahi got married, Rani graduating from college, Madhuri is in school and working. The Bertram's are moving to England. Xanny has a girlfriend and Chaz is a published journalist for the college newspaper. So many things are happening that you aren't here to see and experience with us. That's one of the biggest things that guts me, the knowledge that we won't get to share more experiences together in this life. That just flat sucks.
I sense you being "here," but it's not the same you know. We're living on, continuing to play this game, whatever it's point, while you've slipped into a different dimension. You're here, and you're also everywhere. I'm not sure how that works. I suppose we all find out, in time.
Starr and Kenzie came over today. I hadn't given Starr her birthday gift, and I wanted to be sure she had it before she got her Christmas present. Kenzie brought your dad and me some sweet little gifts. I got a pair of cardinals that now sit near your portrait. As Kenzie said, they represent my visitor from Heaven; you! I also got a beautiful sign with the saying from Christopher Robin to Pooh Bear. "Don't forget, You are braver thank you think, Stronger than you seem, Smarter than you think and Loved more than you'll ever know." Blew me away. I am going to take it with me to work so I can see it all the time during the day. We had a good visit. It feels so good to hug Starr Baby. It's like you are there hugging us both. We watched How the Grinch Stole Christmas with Kenzie, shared some laughter and some tears, too. This time of year is really hard on us, Thor. Kenzie is really hurting, I know you know this already. Keep close to her, she's so young to have dealt with so much.
We're on the downhill slide toward Christmas and are closing in on the anniversary of the worst day of my life. I just don't know how to hold all these feelings in each moment, but I'm trying. I've felt you around me so strongly, lately. I swear I can hear your voice talking to me at times, encouraging and helping me find my way through the devastation. Sometimes I know you are trying to tell me something and my broken heart gets in the way of hearing. That's when you seem to find other ways to send me a message. Thank you for those, they help me keep the faith that we will continue to have a relationship in this new form.
The glow of the Christmas tree gently holds space for all these feelings and thoughts to surface. In the middle of the night, it's just you and me. Glad we found some time to chat, Thor. I miss you more than I can say.
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