As if getting ready for the holidays wasn't hard enough--trying to appear like I care whether Christmas comes or not--going to the store and not buying gifts for my son.
This week has been such a struggle. I know it's different, but I know what it's like to have your child one day and not the next. All I've been able to think about all week is the presents already under a tree for children who don't get to open them. There's probably legos and barbies and hot wheels. Moms and dads have to pick up those wrapped gifts and decide what to do with them. The homemade macaroni ornaments just became the most treasured thing they own.
I have kept my news exposure to a minimum. The first day I heard reporters and police officers say the most asinine things. "Healing" and "closure" and "back to normal". I even heard one cop say it was as hard on them as it was on the families. Wow.
Tonight I finally blew. I started stressing about being with family for Christmas. Everyone will be together--not. We'll go out to dinner; there'll be photos and hugs and everyone saying how much the kids have grown. Ian won't be there.
I got 16 Christmases with him. Some of 'em were touch and go. Now they're just gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment