Buffalo Hunting

This time of year, for the past three years, has been very difficult.  The Christmas season is supposed to be joyous; and sadly, it hasn't been for the past three years because it seems that I am always missing a pivotal person in my life while trying to maintain a level of enthusiasm for the children.  It's a tough position to be in because on the one hand, I am so excited for the kids, on the other, I am so confused about life.  And death.  And all the hell that happens in between.

I went through my depression over the past few weeks - trying so hard to get through each day without letting the weight of it all knock me sideways.

This is supposed to be my weekend without the kids, and fortuitously, I was able to have them this weekend rather than endure a weekend without them again. I think that has made a big difference in my attitude.  Their excitement about shufflin' off to Buffalo is unbelievable.  They are so very in tune with my family and with the joy that being in the presence of my family brings that I can't help but be excited about the upcoming gathering.

When I think about the people who will be so very apparently absent, I choke up.  Yet, when I think about the people who will be present (I use that word intentionally), I am filled with anticipation and enthusiasm.  I think that maybe this will be a new way to approach the holidays - not with sadness and dread, but with gratefulness and joy.  I still have so many incredible people in my life - my relatives! - that I would pick hanging out with over anybody else.  I have these incredible nieces that light up a room; I have these incredible nephews that create laughter in every instance; and the dogs - oh, how they can make us all commiserate and laugh; and of course, the wholeness, the strength, the longevity of a loving set of siblings, and a mother who can throw out one-liners like it's her job (and it has been her job!) and I look forward to it all.  To all of it!

I may be without a mate, but I am not alone.  I may be lonely on occasion, but I am not without support.  I may be aching, but I am not isolated in my pain.

Life is happening now.

I don't want it to happen without Jeff or Dad, but it is happening. 

Laughter still exists.
Love still exists.

Beyond the pain, they are there.

And joy still exists.  I plan on heaping it upon my plate this holiday... heaping and heaping and heaping it upon my plate until my plate runneth over, until my cup is full, until I am spewing a drink across the table in laughter, all over a sibling.  I plan on that.

I will not be disappointed.

Love.