It’s shaping up to be a rather bittersweet Christmas this year. I’m still getting over this wretched cold that’s been plaguing me for nearly a week now. One thing you should most definitely know about me is when it comes to being sick — colds, flues, hang nails — I tend to be a rather, ummm, difficult patient. My theory? I used up all my brave faces during my hospital days, so now, the well is pretty dry. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not completely fargone when I’m sick — let’s just say I’ve mastered the art of whining, and my catchphrase has become, “I’m never going to get better.” My mom and I were both sick with colds and kept arguing about who was the sickest. I think I won…well, that’s what I’ve chosen to believe, at least.
My sister remarked this morning that the holidays are hard for us, and she’s right. Sure, I remember all the good times we had, but I also remember the not-so-good times. This year marks the 10th anniversary of my father’s cancer diagnosis. No matter how bright the Christmas tree (and trust me, ours is bright this year…) or how gorgeous the snowflakes, there’s no way to fully escape certain memories. And maybe I don’t want to escape those memories. Maybe I know that pushing them aside wouldn’t be at all healthy in the end, that it would only cause more heartache later on down the line. So, I suppose I try to integrate those feelings into the holidays this year — letting them simmer on the surface, but not fester too deeply. Does that make sense, Sweetpea? I hope you have a wonderful holiday, wherever you are. And of course, I can’t wait for our first holiday together. Until we meet… xoxo
[Photos via Le Love]