Time to prepare for his funeral/memorial service. Time to get his financial affairs in order. And even time to give in to anticipatory grief.
Chiquitita, you and I cry,
But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you.
Your grief is seen and felt, even at the time of the Christmas spirit and when all is merry. You are seen. You are heard. Your loved one, nor you, is forgotten.
Is a nice one.
Usually grief is a concept pushed to the edges of Christmas along with dried out Christmas tree needles and discarded wrapping paper. I had heard of A Boy Named Christmas through flashes on screens in adverts. I thought “boy and mouse; what could go wrong?” Immediately, my heart sank as I discovered the children had lost their mother.
Why do we have this self-imposed idea that throughout our lives we are meant to maintain a perfect, crisp version of ourselves? Like untouched snow, or fresh school shoes that we don’t want to scratch.
How could I still be listening out, just in case Mum needed me?
Who knows what 22 years of age will bring me? I don’t know, but I am so excited for it. I look forward to Friday, for my personal New Year. I will enjoy it the only way I know how; with laughter and love.
Today, I bleed. In the space of a year, everything has changed.