Monday, December 24, 2007
This has been the most painful day yet-Christmas eve.
How I will get through the rest of 2007 is a mystery at this point.
I have so many memories, so many "home movies" running through my head right now that's it's hard to sort out the ordinary from the extraordinary.
I knew today/tonight would be awful. Talking with my counselor, recognizing that the anticipation is often worse than the actual day, I had a plan in place. Cook, make desserts for tomorrow, talk to Kath USA, then family in Australia, then update your blog-then bed.
Sounds easy enough eh?
I forgot about your Christmas stocking; the one I made you-half of a pair I made for US-and sent across the pond all those years ago.
We decided to hang it after all, and it will see notes we all have written to you. We are going to read them and then tie them to a X-mas ballon I bought today, and let it float up to the edges of the universe to you tomorrow.
Tonight is brutal. I cried and cried when I saw the clock at 7:30; I sadly knew that you were not going to be coming home from the big W bank and tell me about your day/pressies/etc while whirling through the bathroom, getting dressed to go out to dinner with me. There was to be no bear hugs hello, no stolen kisses, no shaking of pressies, no talk about what you wanted to order or what time our reservations were for or any of that.
I stayed in, knowing I would lose it no matter where I went or with whom; I cooked shrimp and broccoli for one. I made a batch of X-mas cookies and I talked with people that I care about on both sides of the Big Pond.
We all miss you heaps, Dazzy.
Your absence is so huge in our lives right now, I don't know how any of us go on.
I still can't believe how hard this day hit.
I have been doing OK lately.
Better than the 2 or 3 month mark, that's for sure.
Maybe because it was such a romantic day for us as well ?
You would always come home with flowers, and we looked forward to dressing up and having a wonderful meal in a fancy resturant, along with a drink or two, and relaxing while we went over the "plans" for Christmas day. You would try and get me to let you open something once we got home, LOL, and sometimes I gave in. You were always so cheeky!
So no dinner out this year. No flowers. No cheeky fun.
I feel like the life force has drained from my heart, and the enormity of your passing is magnified by the brilliance of the full moon in the crisp night air, the sparkling snowflake candles I have lit on the mantle, the cookies and pressies, the stockings that sit in wait of Father Christmas.
I have never felt so empty. Never.
I have felt you around lately, though-that weird, instantly COLD patch of air we all passed through when we walked the dogs the other night; that feeling I had before as I sat at your computer and blogged-like a shadow passing behind me; the songs that come on the radio at very opportune times-I think that all these things are your way of saying, "My love for you still lives..."
I am comforted by that thought. I don't care who thinks it's crazy; it works for me. :)
This is some hard yakka honey. Really hard.
When will this ever be better?
Sadly I think I know the answer to that one already.
Night honey. Maybe tomorrow will be easier.
For both of us!
Love you Dazzy- Always.