Waiting for Christmas

I'm waiting for Christmas.
It's not even Thanksgiving yet, and the world
is already getting ready for the celebration of the
birth of the Christ child. 

The ornaments are being stocked up, stockings hung to 
be ready to buy, toys overflow every store shelf. 

There are bright colors, shining lights, gay music. 
And, it's not even Thanksgiving yet!

I'm not sure exactly why I'm waiting for Christmas.
I think that I'm afraid that it's going to knock me onto 
my knees. I guess I think that if I'm on my guard, then I 
can outwit it, and that it won't catch me unprepared. But, 
grief has a way of showing up unexpectedly irregardless 
of how prepared I try to be. 

I still feel numb. Going through the holiday motions. 
Having our family portrait taken, just like we do every year.
Getting ornaments ready for the tree. 
Asking the children what they would like from Santa. 

It's frustrating. I want to be happy so badly. But, some days
I can't feel anything. I honestly don't know what to make of 
Christmas this year. I don't know how I feel. Maybe I'm afaid
to feel anything.

I don't think that Christmas will feel "normal" this year.
I don't think it will feel "normal" for many years to come.

I have begun a new tradition, I think. We're going to pick
a new theme each year for our Christmas tree. And, the 
children will make the ornaments by hand to and decorate 
the tree. 


But, then again, who am I kidding? Starting a hundred new
traditions won't stop my pain. It won't make me forget that
my mom is no longer here with us. It won't stop that 
aching feeling in my stomach that is from grief stirring
itself up again. 


Here I sit, waiting for Christmas. I wait for what is supposed
to be one of the happiest days of the year. Yet, I feel no 
excitement, no joy, nothing. 


Well, maybe not nothing. I do have a flicker of light. 
A small flame of hope that lives on inside of myself. 
Maybe this flicker will be nurtured into a large, bright, 
fire. A fire that would allow my joy, love, compassion, 
happiness, and love to overflow. Now, this would be a
wonderful Christmas gift. In the meantime, I'll be 
waiting. For Christmas.