December 25, 2002
Ah, Christmas
What is it about waking up in the middle of the night that makes people’s thoughts turn to dark places?
Or maybe it’s just Christmas.
I really hate Christmas.
I have ever since I was seven and my daddy died a few short weeks before. That year we didn’t have much to celebrate. I remember begging my mom to forgo the annual trip to California and forget about Christmas. I asked her not to buy a tree or put up a single decoration. And she didn’t.
It’s sad really, thinking back on it. A recently widowed woman staying all alone in a house with her seven year old daughter. And it was cold and devoid of even the slightest bit of comfort. Because in my family people are strong. We don’t show our pain. We’re raised to hold it in and deal with it like men.
And I don’t remember seeing her shed a single tear. And I went out of my way to make sure I didn’t. Not in front of her. Not when anyone would see. I wanted to be strong for her.
But I remember sitting outside on the back porch on Christmas day holding my cat and bawling my eyes out. I remember crying myself to sleep at night when I didn’t ask if I could sleep with my mom.
I woke up thinking about all that right now. I woke up and cried and sat down to write this. To put my sorrow in to words and share it with the faceless masses. On Christmas. I wonder if you all resent me for that? I really didn’t mean to do it..
{I added two entries last night, so click back..}
2:34 a.m.