Tag Archives: death


9 Dec

The holidays for me…..are depressing.  At least right now.  During the day, I am able to put on my reindeer antlers and jingle bell necklace and smile about the Elf moving at night.  I make hot cocoa in the mornings and sometimes at night, and we watch Christmas movies while surrounded by our gleeful decorations.  But I am so sour.  I’m not the Grinch, I don’t hate happiness.  In fact, I love and long to see the happiness of others, especially my kids, to prove that my faking it is worth something.  That I am accomplishing even the smallest of feats in not diminishing the Christmas magic that fills the heart of so many.  Especially my kids.  The fact is that the main family I grew up celebrating Christmas with according to my memories was as follows: My Mom, my Dad, my Nana, My little brother Jake, most times my Aunt Linda, Uncle Stu, cousin Jacki, and sometimes my Aunt Juli, Uncle Butch, and cousins Dawn, Jeff, Heather and Todd.

So back to my basic Christmas.  All I have left is my Dad, and he lives far away.  Even out of my extended family, my Uncle Stu is gone, and my cousins Jeff and Todd are lost in time, never to speak of again.  At least, neither appear to care to have anything to do with me.

I have nothing left from my childhood.

My youngest asked me while we were hanging ornaments, “Mommy, what ornaments are from when you were little?” I just replied “none”  Because with the exception of a stuffed animal and a couple dolls, there truly is nothing left from my childhood.

My husband thinks I am a hoarder.  I refuse to throw away any craft or home-made ornament made by my kids And i think a big part of that is having little to nothing from my family, or even from myself when i was small.  I think about what I could show my grand children about their heritage.  I have almost nothing.  I realize my past doesn’t determine who I am, but it’s still nice to have something to belong to, to know where you came from.

The song “where Are You Christmas” by Faith Hill has always resonated with me.  But no year as much as this.

Where are you Christmas?  I’m looking, but….life is such a crowded path to get to you.


Does it ever end? Pt 2?

14 Nov

Writing makes me feel better.

Until this year, whenever I had any issue with anything in my life, I would call my Nana.  I could call her, too, to check up on my mom and make sure she hadn’t overdosed herself yet.  Even when she was bed-ridden, sickly and could barely remember my name….I could call her.  Even if she didn’t remember what I was talking about I could call her and I could hear something in her voice and I knew she loved me. 

I can’t call her anymore.  I can hear her still, but I can’t call her. 

I know she was done with this life, that it really sucked for her, and she was totally over it and wanted to go.  I am happy for her because I know anything she is going through right now would be much better than what she left behind.  I know a lot of my family she left behind either does or should feel way more guilt than I do about not being there for her, too.  Some of them knew that one of her last wishes was to see all of her grandchildren before she died.  TWO of us (obviously not counting my brother) made that happen.  The rest didn’t.  So that’s their cross to bear. 

I hear her every day.  In my thoughts, I can hear her advice, and when I am half-asleep I see and feel her….sometimes it wakes me up and I genuinely think she’s here until I totally wake up.  I dream about her.  I don’t mourn for her the way I mourn for my brother because (I promise I’m not crazy)  I feel her and I hear her every day. 


I see my brother, too.  A few nights ago I fell asleep on the couch and (I swear to God) HE woke me up.  And I saw him walk away from me and into the kitchen.  But I woke up, snapped back to reality, and realized (all over again) that he’s gone. 


I didn’t want any of his ashes because I didn’t feel it was my right to them….but I think that also…..maybe if I didn’t have a daily reminder of his death in front of my face every day….that it would hurt less. 

I wish He would’ve shared his pain with me….and let me know whatever he was going through….and LEFT that house to come up here to me.  I COULD HAVE helped him.  He had no guidance.  And he was so ashamed of every bad decision he ever made that he hid it from me. 

He didn’t have a chance after I moved away, and I feel like I stole that chance away from him…..I was his chance at becoming more than what was laid out for him.  And I left him.  I was all he had.  And now he’s gone.