I really have to get over not wanting to write things out because it does help. I think I put it off because I know someone is going to read it. But if I were to write it, and hide it, then what's the point? I've been hiding my emotions for years. I'm good at it. Mostly. Gotta break that mold a little bit.
Christmas. That pretty well sucked. It was mostly ok because it was my nephew Joey's first Christmas. We went a little crazy with his gifts - he's not even a year old so it's not like he really "gets" it. Watching him pass up all the cool toys to play with the wrapping paper and the boxes was pretty fabulous.
New Year's Eve. It actually was nice. I did what I wanted. I spent time with someone special to me, got dressed up, drank too much wine, and laughed a lot. I called my sister in Japan, even though the time difference is retarded. I didn't call the others - or Dad - I didn't even think about it. It wasn't some slight that was done on purpose, I was just having a good time. Well, I'm pretty sure I didn't call Dad because we aren't really getting along right now. I don't feel like there's much I can say about that though. Putting my business out there is one thing - putting my business as it entwines with other people (family or not) is another. He just needs to find his way I guess.
I knew, intellectually, that the holidays were going to suck. Totally different than having it all just kind of happen. I'm a thinker. I spend a lot of time in my head - analyzing, over-analyzing, tearing apart, figuring out, etc. I realized another thing that people don't tell you about grief.
It changes everything. Every family dynamic. Your perspective. Everything.
You might think I'm exaggerating, but I promise you, I'm not. I saw some evidence of it when my Grandpa passed away. I loved that man so much. He was basically the glue for Mom's side of the family though. When he passed away, the aunts kind of drifted apart - the cousins ceased to really know each other, and the relationships that were there from summers together just kind of... withered and faded out. I remember thinking how crazy it was - and that we should do more to get together, and that Gramps would want us to do that, etc. Guess what? Now, now I know.
Mom is our glue. Her presence, whether it was when she was sick, or not, defined how we treated each other.
"You girls need to take care of each other, you're sisters and sisters are forever."
"Don't talk back to your father! He works very hard to make sure this family has what it needs."
"Don't judge - unless and until you are willing to walk in that person's shoes. I know I taught you better."
"You don't turn your back on family. Ever. In the end, family is all that you will have."
"Be nice munchkin, even if they aren't - they probably need the niceness just as much as you do."
Mom brought us together for holidays. She opened the door to the myriad teenagers that I (and my sisters) tramped through the house. She always had an extra plate ready. "There's always enough. Just add water." She decorated for the holidays in crazy gaudy ways and made them fun. We did presents for each other on Valentine's Day - not just Christmas and birthdays. Now? It feels like we're making the motions because we should be, but it's hollow. It's hollow in all of us because that space that she left can't really be filled. So finally, I get it. I get why the aunts drifted away. I get why each of them, my mother included, chose to focus so fiercely on their own families. Because they had to fill that hole with *something*.
When you have had a love that is so beautiful, pure, bright, and generous - and suddenly it's gone, what do you do? When that person leaves, and it literally makes you feel like the world just got darker - the whole way round? WHAT DO YOU DO?
You try to fill that hole. You could drink. You could start doing drugs. You could sleep around. You could become bitter. You could start shoveling every thing you possibly can into that wound - even the mostly good stuff, like loving your kids, or your friends, or you know.. good stuff. Even that good stuff though, isn't going to be so good if you force it into a spot it doesn't belong to. Does that make sense? The shape of that hole is the size of a specific person, what they mean to you, and how much you miss them. So basically - I have no fucking idea what I'm doing. I just don't think that anything I try to put there will work. (Quit freaking out - none of us have suddenly become 'ho's and drug addicts). I am seeing the results of trying to force fill that hole though.
I guess it's just a matter of letting the edges of that space get a little less raw? Maybe I can just let that spot be where the light goes. The light that Mom made sure each of us had. I just have to figure out a way to nurture it. I don't think I'm quite there yet - I'll have to ponder that one for a while.
And now I have that damn song stuck in my head. This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine...
