…… of the silvery tree ……
OK, it’s not silvery, but then it’s not a moon, either.
I’m sitting in my dark living room …… which really isn’t dark because the lights on the Christmas tree are twinkling and dancing and preventing the room from really being dark.
I haven’t truly enjoyed sitting in the almost-dark, looking at the tree, for several years now.
But this year, I feel differently.
This was one of Jim’s favorite things about this time of year. After all of the kids were in bed, and after we had turned all of the lights out and were headed to bed, he’d ask me to come and sit in the living room with him …… to just sit and look at the tree …… and the lights.
I can’t see the lights, and not think of him.
I miss sitting on the sofa, his arm wrapped around me, my head on his shoulder.
I miss the silence that actually said so much.
But I’m thankful that I can now sit and enjoy the lights …… and the silence that still says so much.
It says different things now, but I can sit with it …… and be ok.
That doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him.
That doesn’t mean that I’m ok with him being dead.
It just means that I’m ok with enjoying things again …… and enjoying the memories of him.
It’s definitely easier to enjoy this time of year here in New York.
And for that I’m very, very grateful.
There are no memories here, except for the ones I’ve made in my “after”.
I hope that my children feel the same way.
This time of year is a bitch to go through.
In eleven days we’ll hit the seven year mark.
Which, as always, is unbelievable.
But it comes, whether we believe it or not.
Time is kind of relentless like that.
But it’s also nice to be able to sit with the memories.
Instead of being overwhelmed with them.
It’s nice to be able to smile with the remembering.
Instead of being wracked with sobs.
I hope that those of you who can …… will take the time to sit with your loved one …… and enjoy the lights on the tree. And the silence …… that says so much.
And I hope that those of you who can’t …… will be able to sit and enjoy the memories.