Well, the tree I bought was horrible so it's back in the box and waiting to be returned. I shopped at Target for another one and they were all out. I'll try at Walmart today but my hopes are not high. Maybe it's just not meant to be.
And that's OK. My heart really wasn't into it anyway.
Last week I was counseling a woman who is only [now] 7 weeks into her sadness from losing her soul mate. I couldn't help but notice myself at that stage in her. I remember those days. The hopelessness. The all-consuming sadness. The constant crying.
It's a wonder we survive at all.
So I can see that I am better than I was.
But I still miss John so much. It is still an ache inside. A constant longing.
I cherish the memories and photos. I love when I dream about John, even the silly ones that I know aren't visits. For a few seconds he is still there beside me.
But the longing never goes away.
I know we still have a relationship. It's just different now.
But, oh, how I wish for the old days.
And this time of constant exhortations to be merry and happy and celebrate with family makes it all the harder.
For the first time since John's passing I feel like decorating a bit more for Christmas.
Last year I decorated the front entryway and this year I did as well.
But I actually bought a [I hope] kitty-proof tree this year. We'll see.
Well, it's that time of year again - the Season of Nausea Giving. Otherwise, known as Hallmark Christmas movies.
I will admit, I watch a lot of them. Some of them are fun.
But there seems to be a theme this year of poor widows who are sad until they find true love again and then all is well.
Last night was no exception - Magic Stocking . This movie supposedly told the story of a young widow whose daughter finds a Christmas stocking that somehow grants all their wishes including true love for the young widow. And I realize life is different when you are widowed at a young age and have young children. That is not my beef. My beef was the woman's mother. Our heroine had only been widowed 3 years. It was Christmas time. She was sad. She was missing her husband. And her mother had the nerve to criticize her and tell her it was time to "move on".
Really? Who was she to judge? Three years is nothing in widow time. Three years is barely when you feel your feet under you again and realize you have the strength to get things done and life might still be worth living.
Mind you, this widow was not languishing at home living on cottage cheese and surrounded by wet tissues. She was working, running a home, and taking care of her daughter.
What was there that needed "moving on"?
Ah, she wasn't dating and getting remarried. The panacea to all troubles.
I know - I sound angry.
Our societal mindset - especially in Hallmark land - is you are not complete unless coupled.
So, I guess I am incomplete.
So be it.
In my incompleteness I will continue to take care of myself and those I love.
I will continue to take care of this house.
I will care for our four-legged babies.
I will run my business.
I will write.
I will practice Reiki.
I will continue to work toward my dream of continuing my education [at 67!] of metaphysics and spirituality and even contemplate the idea of some sort of ministry.
I will continue my relationship with John because, despite what others think, we still have one. It's just different now.
And if that's incomplete - oh well.