How Grief Stole Christmas

For three years now, November brings this undeniable, gut wrenching, ball of anxiety. 
"Seriously I have to do this again."
I have to force myself:  to be thankful, a smile - it's forced.  Getting out of bed, all the decorating. Enjoying family time - sometimes this is the absolute worst because her absence is piercing.  Forcing an "ok" when asked "how are you".  Seriously I don't want to rain on anyone's cheer.  Making Christmas cards to send - she is missing - how do I incorporate her?  Did I mention smiling?

Honestly about the only things not forced;  the tears that flow in my silent home. 
The heartache that her empty chair brings as we sit down for dinner.
Remembering her, wanting her, missing her, loving her.

             The emptiness
                                                  The missing

Engulfs every part of my holiday.  What's missing is so overwhelming it can not go unnoticed.  It is not the happiest time of the year for me.  It is one of the three saddest times of the year.

Her Birthday
Her Death
Holidays

I will not count my blessings because with every single blessing, attached is a piece of her, Kelsie. Kelsie, who I should be baking cookies with right now, wrapping her presents, anticipating her smile Christmas morning. 

She would know this year...she would know.

I will, however, remember her, love because of her, embrace the tender mercies, I will cry because of her, I will smile because of her, I will laugh, I will cuss, I will give and I will receive gratefully.  I will live - just like I do, day after day. 

Grief is not linear, just as the earth spins so does grief. A new season with each passing

year,
            day,
                        minute,
                                      second. 

With every passing season a new kind of grief erupts.

With every passing season a "should be" set of milestones are missed, deeply missed.