Chemical Christmas

I'm sad and lonely for all the people I once spent Christmas with who have moved on from this place, this life, and I wonder if I will ever spend another Christmas not on the verge of tears from missing them. It's the only reason I can come up with for the sadness flooding me in this moment. I texted with my friend Jane and we both recalled sitting on her balcony one twilight and talking about how freeing it is the release expectations of how the Hallmark holidays should go, but I think I might be failing at that exercise of releasing expectations because I don't feel free, I feel heavy hearted and sad. Like I wish I could just disappear. Not really, of course. Not really, she hastens to add.

The man and I have already opened gifts. It was quite a haul. Now he is lying down and reading on his Kindle, and I am here, wishing all my friends in this virtual neighborhood a less chemical Christmas than I seem to be having here in the frozen north. Here's what it looks like outside my window today. It snowed twice this week.

And here is where I'll be three days from now, in Jamaica, on the beach where I grew up.

My daughter spent the last several days here with us, as she always does now before Christmas. Oh, we had a sublime time together, wrapping gifts, binge watching bad TV till the wee hours, getting mani pedis, going to the movies, sharing hearts, most of all sharing hearts. Then yesterday, on Christmas Eve, we delivered her north to her husband and his family, where she will spend the rest of the holidays. My son is spending this Christmas with his in laws too, and we probably won't see him again for the season as we're leaving for Jamaica and wont be back till the New Year. 

I miss my children, but I am also happy they have other people who wish for their presence, especially since we don't really do anything for Christmas. As I told my girl when she and her love made the deal to do Thanksgiving with us in the city and Christmas upstate, better she fold in with the family who does holidays up in a festive way, something I never figured out how to do. We’re invited, too, but my husband enjoys waking up in his own home on Christmas morning. Here is a picture I sent to my girl to say how much I love the colors of the circle scarf she gave me. Her dad in the background is tinkering with one of the toys our son gave him for Christmas. He had no idea I was taking his picture, and shirtless too, so considerate wife that I am, I've lightly blurred him out. 

I know the holidays are going to be hard for my daughter and her husband this year. Their sweet dog Munch loved being upstate. We joked that it was his version of a spa, where he could run in the yard and romp in the snow, and be doted on by his other extended family, including my son-in-law's sister, who was probably Munch's favorite person in the whole world. Everywhere they look, they cannot help but see and feel his absence. They made a donation of food and dog toys to the local rescue shelter in Munch's name for Christmas. That little guy lived balls to the wall, and then he was gone. My heart is quietly sore for my girl and her love. But, as my mom used to say, "What cannot be cured must be endured." Gahhh, I miss my mom. And now I am full on crying.