Last year I woke up, eyes filled with tears. A typically happy day had already been ruined without much effort. I told her, that today already sucked and she hugged me. Consoling me in a way only a mother could. She reminded me that she felt the sadness as well and it’s okay to be sad. This year I don’t even have the energy to cry.
That year I had spent thanksgiving with my sisters, something I normally don’t do. Their mother sat in the corner chair one morning, looked at two of us and said, “There is something missing this year.” I didn’t notice until then but a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Finally someone said it. Finally I didn’t feel alone in this. Surrounded by family but still something is missing.
Holidays are hard for me. The day of Christmas, the apartment felt soulless. Saint Nicholas hadn’t presented himself in the house like he had years before. We hadn’t been together the night before, up late talking about life happenings. The spirit just wasn’t there. My sisters came over that morning. We had breakfast as normal, opened presents, I felt the energy. I enjoyed it. I had missed it. My parents broke up the next day. I grew up with the idea that my parents would be together till they died. They didn’t get fully divorced until I was 18 or 19.
The thing is, I don’t want them back together. I don’t miss that. I never lay in bed, tossing and turning, praying my parents realize they’re meant for each other. They aren’t. My sadness is simply a reaction to no longer feeling the warmth I’d once known and adored. As a child when people asked my favorite holiday, it was Christmas for obvious reasons. Into my late teens the reason was really the fact that my family came together just to be together. No homegoings, no weddings, just family for the holiday. Now I don’t have that. I’m debating whether or not I go home for Christmas this year. I don’t feel the spirit. I don’t feel the warmth. My reason for going is simply because it’s my grandma’s wish. Why leave her with a broken heart because mine is? Last year I only did it for my mom. I’m tired of doing things so they think we are a fully functioning unit. My family is broken. They say we aren’t but my family feels broken. The glue they used to patch things up, still allows water to leak through. Things I no longer have to deal with are only a small fraction of the things I’ve lost.
My heart is still broken. I don’t know how to mend it. Holidays are hard for me. I just want them to be carefree again. People say it not feeling like Christmas is simply apart of adulthood. Is it really? Is my grieving a waste of time because this is supposedly normal?