Well the dreaded days are approaching and I seem to grow more and more distant from my feelings about the significance of the next few days. As families are preparing for Santa Claus to come I am sitting alone in my room missing my daughter. Day dreaming about what it would be like to watch my 3 year old open presents, What toys she would love the best, if she would be waking me up at some crazy hour in the morning telling me Santa came, telling me he ate the cookies and drank the milk, seeing the excitment on her face. But no instead I will wake up that morning to an alarm clock and get ready for work and take care of patients for 12 hours hoping it will take some of the ache away. Then 2 days later I will celebrate Mckenna's 3rd birthday with some friends making cards and taking her a birthday cake. Not the way I ever expected to spend her birthdays or Christmas's. I feel more alone this Christmas than I have for the past 2 years. The first year I was still so very numb but was with Mare and her family, the second year I was in Australia surrounded by family and this year no one. It is a strange place to be in really. This has been the hardest Christmas and Birthday yet. I am surrounded by it all and I can't escape. I went to Target the other day only because I had to buy the one and only gift I was buying this year for my nephew and found myself wandering around not looking at the clothes section, feeling the tears form as I pass the little girl toys hoping no one would notice the sadness in my face and the tears in my eyes. If people only knew how much my heart aches that I am childless on Christmas and what it is like to sit at your daughters grave on her birthday. I just want this month to be over. I just want my daughter back. If only being good this year really got you what you wanted. Bah humbug.
Growing up I went to my Nana and Papa's house frequently. She would keep us weeks at a time in the summers. Nana was for a grandmother but also didn't take any back talk or attitude. When I was 10 years old, I moved in with Nana and Papa. My room was downstairs, without a door and had the washer and dryer in the room. Eventually they put on saloon like doors for a little privacy. I lived there until I turned 13. Big years living with your grandparents. Vital years really, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. I always felt connected to my Nana. We were a lot a like. I still wonder what she would think of me now and how I turned out. I would help around the property, help plant cactus (and laugh hysterically together after because we were so sweaty and gross), helped feed the animals, water the trees, water the plants, ride my bike all the time. I actually played out doors every day. Sometimes I was allowed to eat ice cream for dinner when no one wanted to c...
Comments
Post a Comment