I have been sort of in a fog lately. Not writing. Not really doing much of anything – yesterday as I completely abused some Christmas chocolates I realized what this numbness was about. It’s been awhile since I have been happy at this time of year. I don’t know what it is about Christmas that seems to put a big fat effin’ spotlight on all things wrong in your life – or at least that is what it does for me. Not too much is wrong in my life right now – just these little loose-ends – some can be tied-up or at least tidied-up – and others? Well, as long as there is no cure for Cystic Fibrosis I guess those loose-ends will stay tattered blowing in the breeze.
I realized yesterday that my problem of late has been about the Christmas I can’t remember. I was so painfully angry and depressed that an entire holiday event has been completely erased from my brain. It hurts. It pains me that I can’t recall what my oldest wanted from Santa, or how she reacted to getting what she wanted from Santa – Rowan was 15 months – surely she was mesmerized by the lights and the wrapping paper. Still, I have nothing to recall. I was folding laundry yesterday and I came across the Christmas pajamas that my oldest wore. I don’t remember her wearing them – I vaguely recollect buying them – and based on the size it would have been for that year – and I sat there holding them like I was some kind of medium trying to channel energy from them. Nothing. I talk to my husband about it and he is in the same boat… neither of us can really recall much of anything.
It just makes me ache, ache, ache… that I was hurting so bad that in an effort to cope with my pain my brain decided to completely erase about 8 weeks of my life – of our lives with our children. My nearly healed heart tightens to think I may be missing some firsts for my baby… And then when the ache turns to numbness… it slowly recedes into fatigue… I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I am becoming a little bitter of being reminded of this goddamned pain and I know there is really only one way to move past it – and it’s just time, we need some more months and years behind us to forget how we very nearly were broken beyond repair. How our heartache came dangerously close to destroying a love and a bond that we thought was unbreakable. And anger… anger is the worst – this black-ball of anger that lived in my belly – well, again, my poor heart was so distraught by this level of anger in me that it asked my brain to forget.
As I write this in the wee hours of the morning, by the light of our Christmas tree – I know we will get there. I know we are almost there. It’s just these little steps backward that kind of throw me off course. Once again it is not lost on me that now I will do everything to make every Christmas magical and memorable and that’s the take-away here. We could have let that anger and hurt erode our family to the point that we were just so knee-deep in it that we started to forget everything. Instead, we mustered up as much love and light for each other that we are moving forward every day into the healing phase of this grieving process. I need to be patient, I need to remind myself that these things take time and if we just keep living being mindful of every moment being such a gift that time will start to heal many wounds or at least move far enough past it that the hurt is more tolerable and with that, one day we will have more Christmases to remember than the one we forgot.