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Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Memories,,,,,, (Bear with me)
Hundreds of lights, holly and pine boughs everywhere. A giant platform at the end of the livingroom, complete with train, village, little people skating on a homemade ice-rink. Piles of presents that would make Donald Trump blush........
That's the memories that I have of Christmas past. I am the daughter of a poor boy. He had no father to provide, his mother worked 2-3 jobs to make ends meet. He was lucky to get an apple and a orange in his stocking. There were no presents under HIS tree. They were lucky to have food on the table. He made a vow to himself- IF he ever made it, that would never be his kid's version of Christmas. He did, and I grew up in a "Christmas wonderland". It would take us all of Thanksgiving weekend to decorate for the holidays, and they would stay up 'til mid-January.
I married Sept. 1, 1984. A man who's family were of mixed background. Father Jewish, Mother Anglican ( Welsh war bride). They never decorated ( against dad's religion you know!) Took us awhile to come to a balance in all that. Two months after our wedding, I got the call. Mom crying, saying "come home NOW". A friend of the family came to my front door shortly after I hung up, and I saw she was shaking. I knew then- DAD. He died of a Heart Attack while at work. I thought the sun had crashed out of the sky. It was years before I could celebrate Christmas, it was just too painful.
Why do I bring this up? For my friends out there in "blogland" that have had a rough time this season. I know how you feel. When I read of your pain, I feel it with you. It is perfectly normal, no, essential that you grieve for what you've lost. A piece of your heart that will never be the same.
But I know too that hole will, eventually heal. Not entirely. There are still moments at this time of year ( well, all year truth be told) when the knife cuts again. That's normal, don't fight it. If it didn't, than that means you didn't care- DIDN"T LOVE! And that, is just wrong. My father never knew what I became when I "grew up". Never knew his 3 beautiful grandkids. Not in person, anyway. But he's here, in spirit. Everytime I set up that beat-up train, put those ancient ornaments on the tree, old fake piece of mistletoe that I hang in the entry hall. HE IS HERE. And that helps get me through. The pain is tempered by a warmth that reminds me of why the season is. LOVE.
So for Terri, and all of you that have lost someone dear, it's ok to feel the pain. Love is worth it. I've learned that. {{{{{HUG}}}}}} KC
Invisioned on |8:38 AM|
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