Bittersweet Christmas

I changed our playlist.

The regular cheerful holiday music. . . just not doing anything for my heart these days.

I'm struggling with winter and Christmas.  It's just so not what I expected. 

I woke up yesterday morning - and felt like I got kicked in the stomach when I discovered it was snowing.  why is this so hard for you. . . Daniel asks. . .

I don't know. 

Maybe because his grave seems a little colder.

Because one more season has come and gone without our little man in it.

Because it's cold, and I don't want his resting place to seem cold.

I don't know.

The black hole of the summer has faded. . . and so instead of just letting myself grieve and weep I keep going. . .taking out my frustration and grief and tears on things that don't matter. . .

This is such a long process.

Sometimes I just wish it could be over.

Fast forward button. . . where are you?

I cheer when I find tiny orange japanese lanterns to hang on the tree. . . yay. . .  yay?  I'm happy about hanging stuff on our tree in memory of our son?  It seems so wrong.

I struggled this morning. . . usually I do fun stuff for the kids on the first day of December, channeling my mom and her incredible abilities to make the ordinary special.  {snowman pancakes, anyone?} 

I just couldn't do the special stuff.  It's so sad.  This afternoon we dug out all of the Christmas storybooks and snuggled in our big bed upstairs and read until my voice was hoarse.  I can handle that.

Cleaning out the basement. . . I find the high chair and calmly set it aside.  I can handle this. But it lingers in my thoughts, all day. . .  he would be hilarious sitting in it. . . can just see his three dimples and throwing his spoon on the floor.

I don't know why I feel the need to be brave. . . maybe for my little people. . . for Daniel. . . I want to shield them from more sadness.

This is a journey. . . and it will include lots and lots of bittersweet moments.

Including a bittersweet Christmas.