The first Christmas without my Addy happened to be the first in 13 years without the one who I thought would be my other half forever. It was bitter. Very, very bitter.
Absent of joy or any desire to celebrate. Empty of any energy to even pretend.
I so clearly remember just feeling lost. Surrounded by people, I felt invisible. Deeply alone.
I vividly remember praying for January. I needed the season to pass, the jolly carols to cease, the flickering lights to dim, and the feeling of guilt for not having a care in the world for the holiday season to be gone. If I could have hidden and avoided it all, there is no doubt that I would have.
I remember waking up one morning and realizing that my Addy would never know Christmas. I had palpitations as I once again I found myself face to face with yet another reality of death. Robbed of what should be.
On a mission, I gathered her picture and went to see Santa. I have tears in my eyes as I think of the so freshly broken momma determined to create a memory for her child who she longed so deeply for. That Santa, he was simply beautiful and after he didn't skip a beat at my request to take a picture with the only proof I have of my daughter, he asked if I would join in. I didn't want to. I didn't have a desire to sit on his lap but he insisted so I obliged.
As the picture surfaced when unpacking my Christmas decor this year, I couldn't stop looking at it. A picture I never wanted had me mesmerized. If I could, I would tell that deeply wounded girl, who was so lost and broken and empty to even feel that she truly will be okay. Not then, not any time soon, but eventually she will come to understand a new normal. And ever so slowly, she would surface.
I would tell her that even three years later, it still hurts and that it will still leave her breathless at times when she remembers back. And yes, still three years later she will feel tears rolling down her cheeks as she yet again waits for a picture with Santa but despite despising when others said it, with time, indeed with time she would know moments of peace. She would come to understand what it means to find purpose and meaning and yes, even hope in the journey.
She couldn't have understood it then, but I wish she could have known that her beloved Addy wouldn't be forgotten. She feared she would. Terrified that her memory would fade as her marriage did. She worried that she would have to carry her daughter's memory alone but she didn't. Her Addy was, she is, and will forever be so deeply cherished by more than her momma could have ever fathomed.
I would tell her that even three years later, it still hurts and that it will still leave her breathless at times when she remembers back. And yes, still three years later she will feel tears rolling down her cheeks as she yet again waits for a picture with Santa but despite despising when others said it, with time, indeed with time she would know moments of peace. She would come to understand what it means to find purpose and meaning and yes, even hope in the journey.
She couldn't have understood it then, but I wish she could have known that her beloved Addy wouldn't be forgotten. She feared she would. Terrified that her memory would fade as her marriage did. She worried that she would have to carry her daughter's memory alone but she didn't. Her Addy was, she is, and will forever be so deeply cherished by more than her momma could have ever fathomed.
That picture, circa Christmas 2013, is time capsule reminder of how far I have come.
Aly of three years ago needed to know that though she felt invisible, He was there.
He was indeed and He still is, delicately mending the broken within.
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