Two days
after Christmas and I haven’t fallen apart. Either I am about to or I was
successful in refocusing my sad feelings. Time will tell.
All in all,
it was a nice holiday. We woke to Santa’s gifts, rain and kids smiling and
tearing into the presents. We ended the day with a white Christmas (about 5
inches), cold feet and hot chocolate. We don’t get much snow here…ever. In the
past five years or so, we have had the two white Christmases ever. It’s unusual
but it is beautiful.
Two days
later, snow/ice. The kids want to play outside, the puppy won’t potty and my
driveway is frozen. Still, it is beautiful and to see my kids up to their knees
in the white stuff is priceless. They have had a great holiday. My daughter
said it was the best Christmas of her whole life. It’s her fourth so I am
worried that the bar has been set too high too early. Again, it doesn’t matter.
Our little family made it through our first Christmas…..
So,
Thanksgiving…check; Christmas…check. As far as I can tell no more firsts. Oops,
first anniversary. I forgot that one. May will be different.
As for December,
I am deciding that it was ok. What was my secret? I’m not sure. I miss her that
is for sure. I can’t believe she wasn’t here to see the kid’s bounce around on
their giant bouncy balls or ride on their “real two wheel scooters.” I still
can’t believe she missed it. But, Christmas isn’t about who is physically
present. We tried to focus on that. We tried to stay busy, we bought a house.
If that doesn’t keep a person busy then I don’t know what will.
What kind of
crazy person buys a house at Christmas? Me, that’s who. It is part of my
healing process I think. Bottom line, we moved two years ago rather quickly.
Our house sold in three days and we had one day to find a new one. After a long
day, we found our current home. We like it and it gave us more space/storage
but it has never felt like my forever house. The plan was to move out of state
in two years. Little did we know what was going to happen in the first year.
That is part of why I need to move. I’ve said it before but it is worth
explaining again. Not for your sake, but to try to understand myself. In this
house, I feel like I am being chased by my mom’s memory. She didn’t live here,
she didn’t really spend many nights here, but I feel like she is in every room
of my house. In my kitchen, she made the curtains and organized my cabinets. In
my living room, she arranged my furniture. My guest room was her room, it has
been changed but we still call it Emmy’s room. She made the curtains in my
bathroom and playroom. The other rooms have her touch too but I won’t bore you
with the details. You get the point. In each room that I go to, I feel my mom
there. I see her face. I see her. I can show you how she walked up my stairs
and what she said on the way. I can tell you what she saw for curtains in my
family room. She left before we could do that. I can tell you what she said
when she hung my curtains in my bathroom and how I told her she better be
careful standing on my tub. My mom is in this house and I need to move.
I am
wondering if that is a normal reaction. I am thinking it isn’t. I know people
who hold on to every memory. People who latch on to every “thing” that belonged
to the loved one. I worry that I’m not doing that. I worry that I am letting
go. There is a huge part of me that just doesn’t want to do that. If I let go
of “things” am I eliminating her? I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. My mom
made me a lap quilt. It’s the only one she ever made. That’s the only “thing” I
need. She made it with so much love. I feel it when I hold it, which is never
often. I can’t. I washed it. She said she pricked her finger and bled on it a
little. I couldn’t deal with that so I washed it. When I was folding it, I
looked at her stitching. I can tell where she started and where she finished. I
can tell when she started to get sicker. Maybe that’s why I can’t hold it for
very long. I want to, it just isn’t time yet.
I am not
attached to much in the way of material things. I am attached to memories and
people. My mom was a very important part of my life. Maybe at my age, she was
too important. Every move I made, I ran by her. It was like I had to get her thumbs
up before I could do anything. Probably not the healthiest way to be, but she
was my best friend and I valued her in every way. These past seven plus months,
I have had to learn how to not rely on her to tell me if a decision was right
or wrong. I’ve needed her. That’s not true, but it would have made deciding to
move easier. Actually she knew we were going to move. She just didn’t know
where.
I find
myself wondering who is going to tell me how to set up my new home. Me. Who is
going to tell me what kind of curtains to make? Me. Who is going to tell me how
to set up my kitchen so that it flows? Me. I don’t want to do that alone. Sure,
my husband will help, but we have both looked to her to make sense out of our
self-imposed chaos.
It’s good
that we are moving. It’s good that we are going to build a home from scratch
and make it ours. It will be hard and I am sure there will be tears, but we
have to do it. For me, it is the healthy thing to do. In the end, it will be
our forever home that we will continue to raise our babies in. It will be the
home that holds our memories. No matter what, I’ll still have my quilt.
The
following link belongs to my friend BJ Timoner. He lost his dad when he was
only 5. On January 2, 2013 is his going to start his walk across America
(twice) in the name of pancreatic cancer awareness and research. He is my
Purple Pal and he is a real hero. Please take a look at his website.
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