It’s 2am on Christmas morning and I’m wide awake. My mind has been consumed with thoughts of you the past couple of days…days filled with traditions we hold so dear like the SBRM homeless guest Christmas feast, cookie decorating, our family celebration with the ladies at Bethel House, the Christmas Eve service at church and going on a Christmas light tour. We feel your absence so deeply. We miss you. We miss your enthusiasm and sense of wonder for the holidays. We remember how you enjoyed Christmas last year…how you began to really grasp the traditions and anticipate all the fun of the season and I remember thinking, even then, how fun this Christmas was going to be as a result. But you’re gone and it’s just so hard to accept…still. Today, Christmas Day, marks 5 months since you passed away.
Your Dad, Wilson, Max, Olivia and I visited your gravesite yesterday and, I admit, it was harder than I expected as I was reminded of special memories that are so tender…memories like singing “Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer” with you, yours and Livy’s Christmas Eve sleepover tradition…watching you proudly hold a real candle at the candlelight service and your squeals of delight over the simplest pleasures. It’s sweet to see how each one of us at different times and in different ways is choosing to honor you in the traditions we shared with you as well as include you in the new experiences of this very different holiday season. You aren’t far from every thought…from every breath.
I wish I knew what you’re doing this Christmas. I wish I knew what new experiences you’re having and with whom you’re spending your time. There are so many thoughts, so many impressions and feelings swirling around that are impossible to harness and organize. I guess the only way to do today is to get swept up in the swirl, ride the wave and remember that we, as a family, are forever bound. Merry Christmas precious boy! Give Jesus a birthday hug for me. Longing for you this morning, Mama
P.S. I love you.