Hanukkah

I spent the morning wrapping Hanukkah gifts. I suck at wrapping. This was always your job. You always wrapped the gifts and now you aren’t here to do it. I was thinking about how life would be if you were alive today. Maybe you would be stressed about money, maybe you would be worried about stuff, but you would be here. Your children would have their daddy home and they would be happy. Maybe you and I would be smiling behind worried faces – but our children wouldn’t know this. They would only see their parents, sitting together, and drinking coffee while they opened gifts. We would sit and watch the joy spreading over their faces. We would just all be together and a family – the only thing that has ever been important to me.

Instead, I have my son telling me this morning “there are only three people who live in our house now.” I remind him how many people we have in our family and how much we are loved – but still he says, “They don’t live in our house.”

I am wandering around the house talking to you and crying. I am missing you terribly and can’t believe I have to celebrate the holidays without you. I am so very, very tired from faking my emotions for the “happy” holidays. As if life wasn’t difficult enough.

I had planned to give them a little speech tonight before I gave them their gifts. I was going to tell them that I am sorry daddy isn’t here, but we are all going to be fine and get through this together as a family. I sat on the floor with them, hugging their gift in my arms. I looked at their sweet, expecting faces and just said I love you both more than anything, and then I burst into tears. They both ran into my arms and began comforting me, telling me not to cry. I was amazed with their strength and compassion – I couldn’t talk so I just gave them their gifts and watched.

Then I was reminded how much assembling tiny parts was also never my job. I spent the next few hours putting everything together. I got past the tears fast as annoyance soon took over. But overall it wasn’t a horrible first night of Hanukkah.

Next week my six year old’s class is going to see “The Princess and the Frog.” I can’t go as my daughter has a sing-a-long and I am chaperoning. A friend saw the movie today and warned me about the film. Apparently the Princess’s father dies and there is a cemetery scene. Why Disney, why? That is all I can say without spewing curses – of all the movies for the class to see, the timing the everything - why the hell does Disney have to screw me like this? Why does the father have to die – what does that even have to do with a frog turning into a prince – why can’t the prince die – AHHHHHH!!!

So at dinner tonight I talked to my son about the movie. I decided he is old enough to make his own choices in this matter. I told him that the princess’s daddy dies in the movie and how does he feel about this? Do you want to skip the movie and not go I asked? “I will just close my eyes when this happens,” he told me. I said the movie might make him sad and if he cried that is totally fine. He said nothing. I will remind him again on movie day to see how he feels – but I think it will be fine. Maybe it will be consoling for him to see that he is not alone. That other children lose parents and hopefully the movie will have a freaking happy ending for him.

Baby steps. My friends constantly remind me. Baby steps to get through each day, each hour, each minute. Some days are easier than others – some just plain suck.

Therapy. The word that comes off everyone’s lips, by-passes my ears into the place in my brain not ready to comprehend. Do I need therapy? Do I need drugs? Do I need anything at all? I have refused to take any medication to numb me – it is just a band-aid for me and to be honest – sometimes the pain is the best therapy for me. I want to feel this pain, because sometime it is hard to feel anything at all. What is the point of drugs to control the pain I barely feel anyway.

Therapy. I realize at some point I will have to talk to someone other than this blog. I have a pile of names people have suggested I call when the time is right. This pile grows everyday and I just look at it and put it away. Getting therapy is on my ever growing list of things to do, right after make a will and before buy new jeans without holes in the knees. None of these things are going to happen right away.

Maybe when things get really difficult for me, or too sad, or just plain impossible, I will close my eyes too.