Santa died at our house last night, along with everyone else.
Yes, I really just said that. Pick your jaw up.
A disclaimer should come with my play dates. Warning: topic of dying and death will be spoken about from small mouths. It’s inevitable. They think everyone dies, and in actuality they are correct.
Imaginary play is at its highest level in our home and it seems with that comes a lot of dying. Thus, Santa kicked the bucket yesterday. I don't interfere. I listen from afar and let it play out. I realize that they are simply trying to process the death of their father.
Lots of “I miss daddy” this season. Wet pillows. Sleepless nights full of tossing and turning. What has the second season without him felt like? Like someone is ripping my fingernails off one by one. Blood is pooling and I'm losing the feeling in my hands. The person who should be wrapping the tourniquet around my fingers is absent so the pain ensues and the blood continues to pour.
I have written and re written so many posts the last few weeks trying to evoke and share the good tones. Who wants to read something depressing from the widow right now? I’m with you, not me either. So I can share that we've seen a living Christmas tree, experienced a wonderful musical, we've played in snow and seen Santa and walked through McAdenville enjoying the lights. We've driven the speedway and built gingerbread houses. We’ve done Christmas crafts and made ornaments. I feel like if I can just give them more experiences it will ease their load. It will make the loss bearable. We all know that no matter how big or small the presents, no matter how many events I compress into the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, no matter the activities, nothing will fill the void. But I just keep doing it. Maybe it’s not for them but for me. Maybe doing more blankets my own grief.
We are having a magical season together. That layer of pain however is heavy this second go around. It hurts. It's unwavering, more recognizable and in your face. I apologize that this is not full of Christmas cheer. I promise we are still dancing in the living room to carols and searching each morning for our mischievous elf. The boys are smiling and laughing and enjoying the magic. I am still fighting to fulfill my vows I promised to myself earlier this month.
Like everything else, this is just one more mountain to climb.
Happy Holidays to you and your family. Enjoy being together.
Meet the Author (me)
Driven by a need to help others. I have known from a young age that this is what I wanted to do. This is my very real, somewhat sarcastic, look into my newfound widowhood. I hope this site will help you as much as it helps me.