On a Sunday morning sidewalk

It’s 7:43am on Saturday morning and I’m awake before everyone, avoiding sickness, drinking strong black coffee and listening to music that doesn’t involve the lyrics “There’s a party in my tummy, so yummy!” So instead of taking full advantage of my quiet time, I will make my mind go to work and write for the first time in months.

The reason I want to write is I was looking back on my blog roll and saw that the last post I wrote was entitled “Down.” There was a really long stretch where I was in a very dark place. I could admit it but I couldn’t break out of it. Looking back, it seems obvious what the problem was. I lost a huge chunk of my heart and I wasn’t letting go. I still can’t let go completely. I don’t know if I ever really will. For instance, the day gramps passed, I put a picture of him with my two boys on his lap as both the wallpaper and the lock screen on my iPhone.


When I returned to work, I made that my wallpaper on my laptop. I can’t change it. I don’t know if I want to. I think he would want me to. I listened to Amazing Grace and We’ll Meet Again by Johnny Cash more than any sane person should. But then something happened. I quit thinking about the funeral, about the pain, and started seeing only the happy things. The great memories. Seeing my sons on my gramps lap every single day only use to remind me about seeing him in a casket. But now, I only mostly remember gramps giving Jack a hi five and then acting like it hurt because Jack hit his hand so hard. While I still ache when I think about it…there’s a glimmer of hope that I will only ever remember the happy times.

Christmas unfortunately is right around the corner. That is a time not conducive to happy thoughts of loved ones lost. It’s already started. We put up the Christmas tree right after Thanksgiving and on Jack’s insistence, we listened to an old Christmas album on the record player. It was like someone flipped the waterworks switch to “On Full 100%” and I lost it. This will be my first Christmas without mi muchacho. The first year I won’t get a box of chocolate covered cherries and $5 of gift certificates to McDonalds. The first year I won’t walk into the Barnes and Noble movie section and see if I can find the entire box set of “La Femme Nikita” on VHS for him.

Grief is an ugly mother. It sticks to you worse than a nun in church? Ill work on my analogies. But in the meantime, I will remember and honor my friend, my mentor and my gramps during the holiday.

On a completely different note and definitely not as depressing as I just turned this post into, this Christmas season is the first in which my boys are absolutely head over heels excited for Christmas day. Jack really enjoys waking up and going straight to the advent calendar and moving the star another day closer to Christmas. Miles hasn’t pulled down the tree yet. Jack loves seeing the presents under the tree and the difference this year is that he doesn’t think they’re all his! He knows that some are mommy’s and he has even told her what one of them was! Little punk! It really fills my heart to see the joy in theirs.

My quiet time has now come to an end. Two boys are waking up and it’s time to brush my teeth, and comb my hair, and stumble down the stairs to meet the day.



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