I think of them all the time, there is not a day that passes that they don’t enter into my mind. She more than him, popping in, making my heart stop for a moment, it building up the walls to the emotions that threaten it. In addition to the everyday, there are those touchstone days that happen throughout the year that add another layer, Christmas is one of those.

Through those moments that I think of her, I wonder constantly what she would be like. It is a never-ending struggle. I pause when Oliver (my kid is trying this name out) gave me his list. What would have been on Bella’s? Would she still believe in Santa? I know it would still be magical. How early would the kids wake us up? What craft would she make in school?  Would we be going to NY like we always did? I think so, because the reason I don’t now is it is SO painful, all I see is her running around my sisters house, playing with the village, talking to everyone. I have a vivid memory of her sitting and having an intense conversation with my cousin Gwen. The first two Christmases that we went after they died, that is all I saw, and I medicated until I didn’t. The memories flooded so hard, taking me under, the pain of her not there unbearable. It was not an easy decision to make not to go, but a healthy one. I don’t have those memories here. We were only here once when she was alive, in Bend, but in the old house there. So again, no memories. The only thing I have now is, what would, what if, what….

Along with all of that, I have noticed over the past few days flashbacks increasing. I was driving home from work last night, the rain playing with the brake lights, distorting them, and I saw them, I went back to that night. I had already had an extremely long day, was exhausted from that, and did not have the reserves to deal with it. But that is PTSD, it doesn’t care, it shows up like a bad penny, uninvited and at the worst times. I was paralyzed by it, numb, tears welling up, wondering if I could bypass my family without explanation, go upstairs and take something to make it stop. I did the things, all the things to divert, distract, and par it down by the time I got home.  I came in, wrung out, and my kid was in a great mood, joking, engaged, and man oh man, that was what I needed to push it out. After dinner, after he went to escape from the parents, much like any teen, I was spent, not sure what to do with myself. We eventually sat down to Big Love, the series we are watching right now, and my mind just went to mush. 

This will be the fifth Christmas without her, which is why none of this surprises me anymore. Why when I see a little girl who looks like her, I both want to stare and look away to hide my tears. Why when I see a little girl who is nine, I want to see what she is like (because it was five years ago since Oliver was nine). I want to see what a nine year old is “into” now. And then at some point in that thought process, it arrests and morphs into the reminder that she is not here. All I have is the memories, the wonder, the visceral reaction to it all. 

All this while holding the joy of the now. It is always both. I saw a meme yesterday that I re-posted.  The jist was, forgive me if I am a little sad, absent at times, or irritable.  I do want to celebrate this holiday with you, but also need time to grieve the loss of my loved one. For those who know me, know what happened, they get it. They celebrate the joy with me, and they know the struggle underneath, the emotions at any point waiting to erupt. 

We are home this holiday, which is unexpected. I decided to host Christmas dinner with friends.  I am super stoked about it, because I love hosting, love having people celebrate in our home, bringing those things that are cherished traditions from my past Italian holidays to those present.  My hope is it will give my brain something else to focus on as well.  I can hope. 

I ask you dear reader, please remember that the holidays are not always full of joy for everyone, especially those who have lost someone dear.  Please have patience when in one moment they are laughing, and the next teary eyed. Acknowledge their loved one.  Hold the space when that teary moment comes. And to those having a hard time, you are not alone, much love and peace to you this and every holiday season.