Happy Birthday

Image can be found here...

Today is my birthday.  And yours.

A day to start over.  A day to start a new.  While we cannot erase the actions of the past, we can use our mistakes as fodder to change our future.  We can make our "what ifs" turn into "what nows".

We can start all over again.

I know I have done a lot of things wrong in my life.  In particular, in the past three years.  Even with good intentions, I have hurt others.  I have hurt those closest to me.  And, perhaps more than anything else, I have hurt myself.  I have also been hurt.

We are not perfect, and pain is a reality of life.  Proof that we are still living....  Little by little, I am learning to accept the pain.  Respond in spite of it, rather than recoil because of it.  It may be my constant companion, but it does not have to dictate who I am.  Even if I fail, I am trying to make it all mean something...

That pain has carried me through to today.  The dawn of a new year.  The dawn of a new tomorrow.  I do not know what the future holds.  For me, for Gavin, or for anyone out there.  But I know that life is precious and tenuous.  And every dawn that we open our eyes to see is a chance to start all over again.

To create who we are, and what we want, for that very moment.  Because that moment is all we have....

Every time it snows, in the classic television special that airs this time of year, Frosty the Snowman springs to life, announcing "Happy Birthday" to all that can hear.  He is recreated - reborn - with the fresh snow.  Just as we can be reborn with the fresh new day.

And the first new day of the new year seems a perfect time to start.

Who do you want to be in this moment?  What do you want to do with this day?

Happy Birthday.

We Need A LIttle Magic

The gifts have been opened.  Turkey consumed.  And the tree lights finally turned off.  And with the day coming to a close, the house has fallen silent, and I am left alone with my thoughts.

I'm not going to play the entire day as doom and gloom.  Things really do get easier with practice, and with time.... A four-year old light in the room is enough to push away most of the shadows.  Especially on Christmas morning.  And as the day played out, it was okay.  Yes, I thought of Kurt often.  Yes, I missed him.  And yes, I wished he was here to experience what I was... To see what I saw.  Yes, I longed for my husband's hand on my lap at the dinner table, just as my sister and her partner across from me.  Yes, I longed for his Christmas hug, his Christmas wish.  I longed to hear him laugh like a little boy, smile with excitement.  I longed to watch him race my son to the top of the toboggan hill.  And I long to be climbing into be with him right now.

I think I've come to accept that a part of me will always long for those things.  Long for the days of my past.  Long for my husband.  And I'm okay with that.  I think.

But as I sit here now, reflecting on all that was - both today and in the years that have come before, I realize that Christmas... that any day, really... will never be 100% the same again.  There is a certain sparkle, a certain magic that is not brought by Santa Claus.  Not even brought by my husband.  Its brought my me.  Created because I am, or was happy.  That is the sparkle, the magic, of Christmas that is gone.  I still feel like the fifth wheel, the odd man out in a world built for two.  I am not comfortable with myself, my surroundings.  My life.  I have secrets that are bogging me down, holding me back.  I have emotions even I don't understand.  Three years later, so much of my life remains ineffable, not because I don't want to, but because I simply do not have the words...

I don't know if its possible to find that same happiness again.  Don't now if it was ever really mine to begin with.... And I think I'm just coming to terms with that...

Christmas is not about gifts.  Not about turkey.  Not about twinkling lights.  The magic is not created by the people we surround ourselves with, the traditions that we diligently follow.  Rather, it is created by the innocence in our hearts.  The belief that things really are as they should be, even for just a moment, just a day.  Created by the fact that we are happy with ourselves.  Christmas magic is really nothing more than an exaggerated sense of feeling good.

Which is why, perhaps, I feel little magic.

And so tonight, as I turn off the last light in the house and settle down for my own restless sleep, I do so with a heavy heart.  Which is nothing new.  I hold that same heart daily.

My son has had a magical, wonderful Christmas.  I don't think I can capture that again. But little by little I see the light.  And with each ray, the promise of magic exists still...

But as I said in the beginning, it wasn't all half bad today. In fact, except for these late night moments of introspection, it was pretty good.  Gavin made sure of that.  And you don't necessarily need magic or perfection to be merry...

Hoping you all had a very Merry Christmas.  And that you were able to taste, if only for a moment, a little magic.

We all need more magic in our lives.....

Cry

Image can be found here...

The pilot light on my hot water tank went out last night. The water was cold this morning. Its done this before. For whatever reason, its the one thing I cannot seem to get to work on my own. So I put out my plea for help. Then sat down to cry. A cry of epic proportions. Kurt could have fixed it. Kurt should have fixed it. In the past, Kurt did fix it. And it aches that I just can’t fix it myself. I hate – and there is no other word – the fact that I have to do this myself. Alone.

Its much like my life right now. I want to make it “better”. To feel “normal”. But I don’t even know what those words mean any more. Or how to go about finding them. Giving it time isn’t working. It seems like nothing is. Much like the hot water heater...

There’s a lot of pressure built up under my thick skin. And no way to really let it out. Yes, a few tears, a little emotion escapes from time to time. But not enough to matter. Not enough to bring lasting relief. I tell myself not to cry in public. I tell myself not to cry at work. I tell myself not to cry in front of Gavin. I tell myself not to cry, period. For three years, the constant little voice in the back of my head is telling me “Hold it together, Chrystal...”

And then the hot water heater goes.

And the water is cold.

And my thick skin is shattered.

And all it seems I can do is cry...

And So This is Christmas...

Yes, I know that by the calendar, the big day is still a week away.  But Christmas is a season, not a moment.  And as I look around my house - my world - the season is very much in full swing.  There's a stack of wrapped gifts sitting in my office corner.  There's another secret stash stowed safely away in the garage... gifts that I have managed to purchase, wrap, and hide without Gavin being any the wiser.  There's an elf sitting on our kitchen table, finishing off a candy cane as I speak.  There's two trees adorned and twinkling.  An inflatable Santa waves at us from the frond veranda.  There's cards on the counter.  The house smells like cinnamon.  Gavin has emptied the chocolate from not one but two advent calendars.  Rudolph is playing - on both the television and the radio.  And an excited little man is busy crossing days off the calendar as he anxiously awaits.

There is little doubt that Christmas has both arrived and is near...

Christmas has changed a lot for me since Kurt died.  With a four year old in the house, there are smiles and excitement, and you can't help but get swept up in it all.  But the twinkle, the sparkle of the season has gone.  As much as I try to stop myself, I wander the store shelves not only looking for the perfect gift for Gavin, but for my husband too.  Looking at row upon row of this and that, wondering what I would have put under his tree this year.  What he would have put under mine.

I miss the opportunity to wander into the mens wear section with a purpose.  To scout out electronics in search of the perfect gadget.  To hide the butter tarts so there will be some left for Santa.  To fill his stocking.  I miss the opportunity to make him smile.

And as much as we only had one Christmas as a family of three, I miss the opportunity to do it all together.  To make a shopping date night as we scout out the sought after toy.  To fight over whether the lights are being put up correctly.  To watch Rudolph on the couch long after Gavin is asleep.  To as a team lay the gifts out under the tree.  To split the milk and cookies.  To roll over and say Merry Christmas on Christmas morning.

I don't know what our Christmases of late would have been like had we all been together.  But I can still imagine them.  Dream of them.  Long for them.  I'm sure they would have been wonderful...

Which brings me back to my Christmas of today.  No longer is it about the little things that make memories for me.  Its all about the little things that make memories for Gavin.  While I go about my laundry list of things that need to be done alone, each one is done with a purpose.  To foster my little man's excitement.  To make my son smile.  Because it is now in his smile that I find my own.  In his magic that I can find any for myself.

Every year, my Christmas changes a little.  I see a little more shine back in the day, in the season.  Yes, the build up is still a lot of work.  And I have my share of melt downs and Bah-humbug moments.  Days that I want to fall asleep and wake up in January.  But I can now pause to appreciate the lights too.  I don't turn and run from the tree.  I don't cry while he sits on Santa's knee.  And I can usually find some joy in a little boy's wonder, his smile.  While I may not embrace it as I did in days past, I can't say I hate the holidays, either.  Not entirely, anyhow.  My Christmas spirit is certainly not back overflowing.  There's still probably more Grinch than Kris Kringle lurking inside.  But I know that spirit is out there somewhere.  Hidden in those sands which I wash away a little more with each passing year.  I don't know if what I feel is healing, or just acceptance.  Or just change.  But I do know it is different from last year.  And certainly different from three years past...

I understand, accept, that for Gavin this is all normal.  This is what he knows.  His holiday season consists of me and him, making traditions and memories on our own.  I cannot deny a little boy his memories of Christmas.  I know how precious mine are to me.  And so I face the day, the season, with this strange combination of happiness and sadness, anticipation of tomorrow and nostalgia for yesterday.  This paradox, this conflict has become my constant companion, my constant struggle.  But it is what it is, and it isn't all bad.

And next year may be even a little better....

I will always long for what I had.  Wonder what could have been.  But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate what I have....  And I don't have everything.  Without Kurt, I can't.  I probably never will.

But I still have a lot...

And so this is Christmas. And what have we done? Another year over. And the new one just begun...

Confessions

Image can be found here...

There is nothing eloquent about what I write right now. No lessons. No memorable quotes that you may walk away with. Just a lot of rambling from a very confused and cluttered mind that is trying to make sense of it all.

So let me start with a confession. I screwed up. Big time. Whoever said there is no right or wrong way to grieve has never actually been on this journey - or at least not taken the same journey that I have. Because I went about it all wrong....

When Kurt died, very early on, I said that taking care of Gavin would take care of me. And I clung to that. Believed it. And threw myself into it full force. I didn't take any time to figure things out for me. Take stalk of my life. Look at what it was that I needed - really needed.

It was John Donne who said that "He who has no time to mourn has no time to mend." How right he was. How right he is. And that is the story of me. Within a span of six weeks I went from a happily married new mom on maternity leave to a full time working widowed single mother. I didn't stop, take time to figure things out. I didn't take time to feel. I surrounded myself with my son's needs, 110%. And as a result, three years later, my son is thriving. While I am not. I can honestly say I have never really grieved. I'm not even sure, at this point in the game, that I know how to.

I can cry, yes. But even that does not seem to be enough. The tears are of sadness, but not really grief. There is no cleansing attached. No emotions, really. They escape from my eyes, and then I wipe them away and keep on doing what I have always been doing. Ignore them. Much like this entire process.

Except while I have been ignoring things on the outside - keeping myself busy enough with everyone else's needs and expectations, the pressure on the inside has not just faded away. Rather, it has grown. And is now at a point where it is starting to break through - leak through - at inopportune times. I can't control it any longer. I can't suppress it. It shows itself in the anger. The impatience. The frustration. It shows itself in the flashbacks. The memories. The sometimes unrelenting thoughts. It shows itself in the anxiety. The depression. The unstoppable feeling that I would rather be dead than living. And yet I feel I can't express it either, for no one would understand the expression that would come three years after the fact. No one would have patience for it three years after the fact. And, frankly, left unattended for three years, I am rather afraid I do not have the capacity to deal with what it has morphed in to.

I so badly want to run away. To shun my current life. To shun the responsibilities and obligations that have served as a distraction for so long. To shun even Gavin. And just run far away, where no one knows me, has no expectations of me. Where I can just be. Just exist. Just be me - whomever that is.

I want to let it all out. Whatever it is. And then pick up the pieces. Whatever may be left.

I know people say you cannot run from your problems, your mistakes. But I honestly don't think I can stay much longer. I screwed up pretty big time with all of this. Even though I was doing what I thought was best, in retrospect I was wrong. And I have got to do something. But honestly, how do I fix the damage?

Or is it already too late?

I'm confessing my biggest secret, right here - right now.  Its the simple fact that I really don't know what to do.....

Feeling Lucky

Image can be found here....

Deep down, I know I am lucky. I have a wonderful boy. A secure, well paying job. A roof over our head. Food on the table. And a little for extras on the side. When Kurt died, I was fully equipped to be able to sustain Gavin and I on my own. Yes, I know I have so much more than so many people. And I do appreciate that.

But I just don’t feel lucky. I watch my Facebook newsfeeds role by – friends of today and yesterday. Them, their spouse, and their 2.4 children in a moderate house. Trips to warm weather destinations. Family holidays. Date nights. Even just quiet evenings to themselves. All things I want so desperately as I sit on the outside, looking in. All things I long for. All things I know I would have had had things been different.

In my world, they are the lucky ones. Blissfully unaware that mortality is knocking at everyone’s door. Sleeping soundly, untortured by nightmares of the past. We lived our lives no differently. Only I fell in love with a man who was destined, by a fatal heart condition no one knew about, to die. It wasn’t even a conscious decision on my part....

Yes, I know no one’s lives are perfect. That these ideal families I see and long for have their own ghosts, their own demons, their own issues. But today, as I sit here completely exhausted and near paralyzed from my own, I would trade, burden for burden, to have my husband by my side.

Yes, deep down I know I am still lucky. Luckier than many, anyway. But they say the grass is always greener, and my lawn, in my eyes, is dead....

Like I said.  I just don't feel very lucky....