So I'm realizing that this journey is anything but linear. It's ugly, it's raw, it's random and so many other things. As the season of Fall descended and the holidays started creeping up, the messiness of the grief became more obvious. To be happy/sad/grateful/angry/somber at any given time was a regular occurrence. A few days ago, we had a conversation that really solidified that things would be different from now on, and forever.
The days leading up to a big day always seem to be the worst. The day between Max's 13th birthday and Thanksgiving, the kids decided to start talking about our Christmas tree tradition. To my surprise they wanted to go and get a live tree again. "It's tradition," they said. I snapped back, "So is having a husband and a father to choose the tree and carry it!" I was angry and the grief was so raw. I was trying my best to hold it together and I just blurted that out.
I ended up just having to tell them that I couldn't do a tree. I could not come home day after day to a tree that Patrick didn't choose, didn't put up, and wasn't going to come home to. Just typing that really hit me. It just took me back to last year; I just knew I was going to bring him home. I was sure of it. The kids were disappointed about the tree, but I came up with an alternative. I decided they that they could have a few little trees to decorate and honor Jesus and their Dad's tradition if they wanted to. They would have to keep them in their room.
So yes there is the big loss. But then, there are so many tiny secondary losses and realities. The loss of beloved traditions. The realization that I have to make all of these decisions solo. The reality that someone will be disappointed, either myself or them. I hate making that choice, but I have to. I just can't do it.
*Christmas 2020, Keeping the Tradition*
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