Here Comes Santa Claus

If you were still here, and healthy, we would be flinging ourselves into the holiday season.

I loved your passion for decorating the house and your flower shop, and I remember clearly harassing you every year about how much you loved Christmas.  I would send you pictures texts of people who were wearing Christmas wreaths as clothing or make fun of you for how awesome you wrapped presents.  But for as much as I ever mocked you for it, your home was always an amazingly warm and awesome place to be on Christmas morning because it wasn’t just decorated with the tree or lights or garlands, it was decorated with your spirit.  It was filled with tradition and surprise and anticipation. 

You got us the best gifts.. some we asked for and some we didn’t know we wanted.  Your thoughtfulness was like this big palpable hug that was with us around the holiday season—which might be why I feel so empty about it this year.  I hear a Christmas song and I almost get my engine going with “Christmas spirit” but then I shrink back down into the lonely truth that it’s just never going to be the same.  And even though next year or the year after I might feel differently, at this point in my life I can’t imagine anything ever replacing it – and certainly never topping it.  Arlene Christmas wasn’t just about the presents or the decorations, it was the feelings and the PJs and the morning coffee/drinks/cinnamon rolls/breakfast/sitting on the couch with you and dad and Bailey (when she was home).  And while I like to think I never took that for granted, I know that I did because we all did.  We never thought in a million years that you’d be ripped from our lives too soon.  In the same way that Shaw Christmas wouldn’t ever be the same if we lost someone on Greenwood Avenue, Christmas day will never be the same because it won’t have the special Arlene touch.  

I don’t know what I’m trying to say here other than … I’m trying my best to have some kind of holiday cheer.  I get a feeling that I want to do something good, because giving feels better than receiving for me, but then I’m  not really sure where to start because I’m just dreading how different it’s going to be.  I looked up on pinterest some good nail art ideas for December and sat down with my polishes last night—and I ended up with red tips and nothing fancy.  How could my fingernails be merry and bright when I’m not?

And I know dad needs me (and the whole family) to be by his side and strong for Christmas… but I just want to slink away and be by myself where no-one knows what I’m going through because it’s just too much to try and wrap my head around the fact that we had someone so awesome and she was taken away.

So I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.  I’m going to try and pray, I’m going to put up a Christmas tree at my house, and I’m probably going to drink a lot because that’s all I can really envision doing at this point.  Maybe next year, things will seem less difficult—but for now I hope you’re looking down and can forgive me for not being full-blown excited about Christmas… because it’s hard since you’re not here.