Thoughts Around Christmas Time

I know you’re looking down on us, your presence is always felt.  Even though the time when you were here gets farther and farther away in the past, the memories we’ve made together never get further than my subconscious.  I’m still grateful we have so many pictures to document the good times.  Christmas is really hard to get through without being sad because you’re not with us.  But for the first time in a few years, I really felt the holiday spirit and enjoyed the heck out of spending time with my family.  There’s just something special about this time of year, and you loved it so much—I’m starting to see why.

If you were still here, you would be so proud of Kirkland—he’s such a well-mannered kid, and he’s so stinking smart.  It boggles my mind that he’s READING, I know it would impress you.  And if you were still here you’d be so excited to be preparing for the birth of my baby daughter.  I’m overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of my loving family, everyone seems to be surrounding Michael and I with all the warmest wishes and support we could possibly hope for.  I wish you were here to rest your hand on my growing belly and feel your granddaughter kicking inside.  But I know you’re watching over us, and I can feel you in my heart and I can hear your advice in little memory whispers.

Most of all, I just miss your warm hugs and your reassuring presence.  But that presence, too, isn’t ever too far off from the here and now.  Everything you ever taught me is still with me, and all the loving feelings are wrapped up and tangled and woven within our whole family.  We miss you so much, but I’m starting to feel at peace with the fact that life continues on.  And while it’s still not fair or fun, there are new things that will happen and memories that will be made, and you’ll never ever be forgotten, just a little farther away than we’d prefer.  I love you so much and I wish you were still here and healthy, but I’m so glad for the time we had with you.  I can’t wait to tell baby Bethany all about her Grandma Arlene that she never got to meet, and show her lots of pictures of you.  

I miss you so much, and love you so much, and I very much wish you were still here.

I Still Remember What You Did

I still remember the little things.  It kills me that I took them for granted in the past, but I cherish the memories of them now.  Fair pageants, you brought flowers.  Any type of concert or special event, you were there in the crowd to support me. 
I missed you so much on our wedding day, but in a way I had a calm peace about it-- because you were with me through the whole planning process, you had a hand in the beautiful weather, and you were with me all day in my heart. 
I miss you so much and I wish you were still here.

Just A Thought About Christmas

I don’t need presents.  I suppose there was a time in my childhood when I thought I needed gifts, but that time has long since passed.  Approaching 30, I certainly don’t feel like I need gifts now.

But it’s hard to forget the special magic that you injected into every Christmas by getting me something I didn’t know what I wanted or needed.  You had your own way of doing it, too.  I keep kicking myself, I took so much time for granted.  I never appreciated it enough at the time.  It’s hard to describe the feeling that I get when I’m thinking about it now… how there were always thoughtfully chosen gifts.  Some were your way of pulling together the families, uniting us in a little club (Pandora), some were your way of injecting your own artsy style into our wardrobes (scarves, clothes), and some were for pure fun (cameras, computers, decorations).  It always amazed me how you managed to capture everybody’s perfect personality with your offerings.  I am resigned to the fact that you had a talent that I will never, ever possess. 

Gift-giving was so special to you and it’s always been a source of anxiety for me, so I hope that you never felt dampened by my Grinchy attitude.  I don’t know why it doesn’t come as naturally to me. 

And for as much as I never needed presents, and certainly don’t need them now, I do miss the excitement of watching you watching me on Christmas morning.  I think I’ll always wonder what you would have gotten me each year, if you were still here.

Daisy by Marc Jacobs

I wore a spritz of Daisy by Marc Jacobs today, and I can’t stop smelling it on my wrist.  It reminds me of a warm hug from you and it takes me back to when you were close enough for one. 

Some of the reflexes don’t go away.  I still pick up the phone to call or text you.  I still expect to see your face in a recent family photo.  I still expect you to show up at a family function. 

Aunt Kimmy’s wedding photo from Marathon Key last thanksgiving is the calendar picture for November, and it’s so full of people we love and smiles and sunshine and sand, and it’s just missing your smiling face.  The bright beacon of your presence, for me, is the spray of flowers on the arch in the background… your idea for blue and orange flowers.  It was such a magical week of grieving, healing, marriage, celebration… I wish we could go every year.  I always feel so close to you at the beach.

And now we’re planning my bachelorette party, and the wedding details are ironing themselves out—and it’s all happening and I just wish you were here for it all. 

Still Gone

It’s the quiet, unassuming occasions that hit me the hardest.

I’m no longer lost on a weird journey of figuring out how I got where I am—whether the year milestone had anything to do with it or not, remains unclear.  However, I’ve found that Katie’s words are true: it’s gotten better.  Okay, maybe not better, but easier.  Or maybe not even easier… but some other word that more accurately describes the act of feeling drastically changed but, simultaneously, exactly the same—only different. 

Captain’s log day 405 since you’ve been gone, and still I haven’t gotten so much as an email from God with His reason for all of this. 

My breath still gets caught in my throat when I reach for the phone to call or text you. 

And I wish so much that you were going to be physically here for our wedding day.  It hurts very deeply to know how much you would be enjoying the planning, as well.  I just stuck a picture of you on the inside cover of the wedding binder. 

I miss you.  Very, very much. I just really wish you were still here.