Good Grief

In my dream world, I would be sitting here in my living room drinking a nice hot cup of healthy hot chocolate, next to my blazing fireplace, while I watch my two kids run around the tree ohhhing and ahhing over presents.  The Christmas lights would be our only light…shining in the beauty of what Christmas is.

Katie Grace would be running after Isaac, her red hair a sloppy mess, copying his every move. He would be directing and showing and telling how everything worked.  Picking up the colorfully wrapped presents…dreaming and talking over what they could possibly be (this year its slippers and a double gun, whatever that is.)

Then they would run to me, asking…begging….pleading for another candy cane….or just a few more minutes for bed.

In my dream world….this season would be one of strict celebration.

In my real world though, I only have half that picture.  I am missing my sweet girl running around after her brother.  I am missing the light of Christmas in her eyes.  The shared excitement.

Her absence is breaking my heart this year.

Well truthfully it has broken my heart every year. This year I can finally feel it.  The numbness has subsided, leaving behind a raw aching heart.

I long to join in celebrations with her. To see her smile in return to my smile.  Her delight in me delighting in her.  The joy of opening Christmas presents.  The wonder of fire on her birthday candle.  Smashed cake on her face….and messy hands getting everywhere.  To figure out if she loves Chocolate or Vanilla.  To just know her.

It’s times like these that I can almost feel lost in the pain.  When I don’t know how to process it all. I can’t find anywhere to stuff it or put it or hide it or place it.  It oozes from my skin and out my heart.

Oddly enough as I struggle to stay afloat. To stay “normal” and not too much like Debbie Downer.  I find myself proud of me.  Cause I may be doing it messy but I am doing it.  I am living.   I am facing the pain, on each new level that it comes.  Last year I couldn’t feel this….this year I can.

I am growing stronger…..facing my issues, past and present.  It is changing me….making me able-bodied.  I decided when Katie Grace was born, the brain damage was not going to rob me from life with her.  I was going to keep on until, the pain was just what is was…pain.  I was going to grieve until it became good so that I could hold onto and relish each living moment I have with her.

This Christmas as I sit in the grief and weed my way through the pain….I can say the grief is good.

 

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