We never celebrated Christmas in my family, so I'm one of those lucky grievers not drowning in yuletide memories. Having been lucky to spend several very happy Christmases with Jason's family, I'm thinking of them today, particularly my late mother-in-law, who loved Christmas down to her very core and made it so lovely and special for all of us.
I'm home today--it's grey, gloomy and muggy (WTF, weather gods?), and I'm planning to see a movie tonight so as not to think of all those happy families spending Christmas Eve together with their loved ones. I'm going to spend these four days relaxing, reflecting and taking a breather from life. Grief makes everything heavy and dark, but I'll do my best to relax and enjoy the time off.
I've found a safe place in my sibling grief-support group, among people I consider close friends after only knowing them for a few months. Simply having experienced the same unimaginable pain of losing a sibling, these fellow grief-travelers understand me and my journey in a way that even my closest family and friends can't. (I have sought out a similar group for widows, though I haven't yet found it. Grief is grief, but losing Jason is a completely different type of heartache.)
Instead, Amir will remain forever young. My entire body aches every day from missing him so much. It's been 13 months since he left us and I still wake up every morning hoping it was a bad dream. How can it still be so hard for me to believe he is no longer here with us? How can we be a family without him?
Thank you, everyone, for reading this blog and for continuing to remember Amir and Jason--two beautiful souls who will be in my heart until my last breath. Sending warm wishes to all of you for a peaceful, joyful and relaxing holiday and good health and happiness in the new year.