I Thought...

Dear Allison, I cannot help but talk with you directly this day, every day, actually, but right now it is what helps me move, manuever, make the climb that may feel like a mountain, but in reality, is only steps. Steps of healing, steps of coping, of managing, of following through with appointments and plans, of accomplishing the most mundane of tasks, that somehow feel monumental. Steps, Allison, it's all about the steps. I thought they may come a bit easier...

When my burdens are so heavy, which is really everyday, only intensified right now of course I turn to a loving God, you, His angels, His people, my sanctuary, my life, my loves. Why this intensity? I wonder if it has to do with the holidays, combined with your last weeks, almost days, now, that became more and more precious. I can promise you, sweetheart, that I do not sit and try to think what I, we, YOU, were doing this time, this day, this month, already five years long, long ago. I actually do what I believe will make you smile, what I KNOW will make you joyful, and that is to take those steps, to light the Christmas candle, to play the music, to decorate the trees. Yes, TREES! You would love it, and in many ways, I do it just for you, for Uncle Mike, but I do it for those who will visit, and for your sister, father, cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandparents. I do it because I know I am leaving a legacy. Oh, I know, I'm not supposed to think like that, but I do. I cannot help myself. That doesn't mean I think about the next life more than this one, I am just more aware than most that it is sooner than later, for me, for us, for everyone. And when it is my time, I want to preserve YOUR legacy, MY legacy, my parents and my grandparents. That's what the holiday is all about.

But may I say to you that it is so damn hard to do this without you, knowing you will not come through that door, and I don't care if it's been five minutes, five days, five YEARS, my soul hasn't changed. It aches for you. It takes every thing I have within to get to the store, to keep the lunch date, to hear the music in the stores, to look at the lights, to decorate. Last Sunday, when I put up your tree and decorated it, I have never felt so alone in my life. It took everything I had in me to make it a showcase of beauty, so easily done, once, now, painstaking and still raw, I know that tree exists, because you do not. At least not in the physical sense. And that is the brunt of my pain, fatigue, and soulful tears.

Thank you, dear daughter, for the Christmas gift of strength. Yes, I know you are not the source! You don't want that credit, and I can SO hear you say, "Jesus is the reason for the season"...and when I hear that, I smile. There was a time when I thought I had forgotten the sound of your voice, but it is back, and it is the sweetest song of all, to me, your mother. It is a gift, as is the reminder of your beautiful presence in that "last" Christmas. I cling to that, and I have never stopped thanking God for such a gift. Other things are coming "back", too, Allison. They show up, slowly, maybe for a short time, only to subside at another time, but they show up and make me realize you are helping me to heal. I can do things I never did before, but on the flip side, I cannot do some things I always did in the past! I follow my spirit and I let God guide my activity, my actions, my heart and my soul. I smile while I weep, and I hum along to tunes, while I see pictures in my mind's memory of a time past, when we were all so young and innocent, when Santa existed and toys were cheap, and traditions were cast and we sat in church together, singing out of tune, and going on our annual rides to look at lights. I don't see the lights like I used to, Allison, they all look the same, and I think that is because I see them through the tears that never leave.

Allison, I don't know what I thought, but this is not it...I thought I knew. I thought that someday my heart, mind, body and soul would respond differently. If truth be known, it IS different. I just don't often SEE it, for the ache of missing you prevails over all else. But you are reminding me of the so called "progress", the act of healing itself, the fact that I can actually load the Christmas CD's and play them while I work or cook, the fact that I can bake cookies and think of others, shop again, and wrap, and this year, perhaps send out a FEW cards with a photo of your father, sister and me. You remind me that I have walked down Allison Road and gained momentum and inner peace. You show me the pink sunrises and sunsets and your spirit reminds me that you are in the purest of all places. Your love reminds me through the song, My Wish, to accept God's grace and forgive my own shortcomings or mistakes. You remind me that I am always your mother, and death does not part us at all.

I thought I knew how to do this, by now I'd be seasoned or proficient or some kind of expert at grief, loss, and missing you beyond any dimension. I know now, that there is no time I will wake up and ARRIVE. I am where I am supposed to be, and for now, that's what I'll cling to.

My first of many Merry Christmas letters to you, my baby, my love.

Mom