In my head Christmas was this horrendous hurdle I was going to have to get over. I realized quite suddenly it is in fact New Years. This was especially startling to me since Chris and I had no real attachment to the holiday nor did we have any specific rituals we performed. It really has nothing to do with Chris yet everything to do with him. Strangely, though Christmas was hard, this feels more difficult.
My hang up? This begins a new calendar year without Chris. I keep thinking about minute details like the fact that he will have never written 2011. Ever. Just around the corner is also my 34th birthday as well as Owen's 1/2 birthday. Then the other day I was thinking that come April 2011 I will cross many bridges. My first anniversary since Chris' death which would have marked our 6th. Maya's 4th birthday. The birth of a niece Chris never got to meet. The six month anniversary of his passing. Finally, I will have reached the age Chris was when he died. Then, do I become older?
Yesterday I got down a calendar we received in the mail and wrote in some appointments and obligations I needed to remember when my current calendar goes into exile. Until last year, Chris always picked out our calendar. Last year I made one on Shutterfly. This year...I am using a free calendar I got from Woodland Park Zoo. I am sure it is some sort of subconscious protest to my situation. Reading that last sentence made me laugh...situation!?! I guess it seems minimal or easily overcome if I call it my situation instead of my life.
So, what to do? I think my technique is going to involve deep breathing and the old grin and bear it or fake it til you make it idea. It will be a low key night with Chris' brother's family and some good friends. The kids will be wild and wound up and we will enjoy some pizza and good company. It probably won't sink in until I get home and am trying to negotiate the simultaneous bedtimes on my own after being out. After the kiddos are in bed I am sure the silence will set in.
Each of the past three nights I have had a moment where I said to myself, 'now what?' Then the onslaught of memories comes flooding in. The swats on my booty I always received walking up to bed, the debate about who was going to take the dog to her crate, the discussion about how late we stayed up, questions about what I was going to do with the kids the next morning, the drawing of the invisible line down our bed so Chris' 5 pillows wouldn't smother me, laughing as we fished My Little Ponies or other small objects out of our bed. It's just so darn quiet here after the kids go to sleep. Tonight I waited for it. I could sense it coming. The silence slowly sets in and covers my house and makes things seem foggy and slow. Now I sit in my king size bed and think I should just take it out back, burn it and buy a double. Not really but this bed is gigantic.
One of these nights I am going to go to bed at a normal time. Really...I will.
Snuggle with your kids, let their warmth remind you and put you at some ease!
ReplyDelete<3 Tiffany
Love this, "Finally, I will have reached the age Chris was when he died. Then, do I become older?"
ReplyDeleteMy childhood experiences were not the same...but I know the silence you speak of in a different way. Going to new homes...going to bed alone...and not sure who I was or where I fit in. I remember living at my aunt's house, going downstairs to bed...and feeling a sort of panic that I was alone. Hugs my friend...time heals...even when you aren't sure you want it to.