So the holidays are here. Overall, I guess I could be a lot worse off - I think I need to remind myself of that more often. I could be alone, I could be broke and alone, I could be broke, alone and homeless living under a bridge. That would certainly be worse. This sucks though. To sit in a room with someone else, as I am right now, and feel alone isn't easy. It isn't comforting and it is to helpful. But I can't change it. My grief makes me feel alone - even when I'm sitting around a familiar table with the ones I call my family.
The actual holiday wasn't that tough because I was busy. Busy watching the turkey, praying it wouldn't burn. Busy figuring out the stuffing which happen to come out pretty damn good if I do say so myself. Busy trying to stay busy so I wouldn't be sad. And in those moments that I wasn't busy, I could see her sitting next to me in that chair, with her hair back, some hideously ugly and/or stained shirt on, drinking wine and bitching about something. And I choked back the tears, looked at my plate and tried to think of other things like my daughter laughing or the neighbors bizarre lights display (nothing says the holidays like a lit up Eiffel Tower on the lawn). I kept hoping no one would see my sadness and, as far as I know, no one did. I had hoped to feel her somehow that day, but I didn't. My visions were just that - mine. I have to accept the fact that she's just gone - no matter how hard that fact is to accept. The feeling that I have had all along - the emptiness, that gap which suddenly opened up after she passed; it will never fully close. She is gone from here, I won't see her or hear her or see her. Maybe my Dad will, but I won't. And I need to start getting used to it because holding out hope is getting me nowhere fast.
One day I hope to look at that empty chair next to me, complete with full place setting, and smile. But for now, I'll just keep my head down and hope for better days.
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