Skip to main content
I skipped Christmas last year. The first one without Enzo.
Our cruise allowed me to pretend it wasn't happening. And damn, I did just that. 
No presents. No decorations at all. Just plan for a cruise, go on a cruise, enjoy a cruise.

When it was over, I thought "that wasn't too bad."
I didn't realize I just blew right past it, ignoring it.

I skipped Christmas last year, and I'm paying for it in abundance this year. 





Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

part 3: the recipient

I didn't know how this would end when I began writing. I just knew I needed to pen my anger.  I had a lot of things I needed to get through: thoughts that take over my brain and I think about over and over. Knowing what I know about myself, I'm stuck here until I take the time to write it down. It's gonna be a lot. I need to write about what happened in the hours after his death, how I remember the last time I saw his face, what exactly I saw & how that April is sooooo separate from the April I am now. I've learned what that is: dissociation.  I've also realized I've used dissociation my entire life. I'm not ready to write about that yet. I need to write these facts down. Facts that sound a little too weird if you've never suffered the loss of a child. I have. So whatever I need is ok as long as it isn't harmful to me or anyone else.  In the middle of writing how angry I am about not having signs from my son, about this deep turmoil I'm addre...
Post a Comment
Read more

the years that come after

It's not true what they say.  "The first year is the hardest."  That's so far from the truth.  My beloved friend and hair stylist lost her 14 year old son in a tragic gun accident 12 years ago.  Today, as I sat down in her chair I asked her "How long did it take you to enjoy the holiday season again?" In the middle of my question, my breath caught and burst into tears. She shared with me some things that are deeply private, but she did say it.  "The first year is not the hardest." That was exactly what I needed. It was permission. It was my acknowledgement.  I'm not crazy. I'm not losing my mind.  The first year isn't the hardest.  While there IS joy in my life, this year, the third Christmas without Enzo, has been more difficult than the others.  What do I do with that?  No one can answer that. Not even me. Moscato didn't work. Quiet doesn't work. Loud doesn't work.  Smiling doesn't work.  The only thing that HAS helped...
Post a Comment
Read more

take a shower

Yesterday was two years.  I've taken a shower the evening of both anniversaries during the 10 minute window I believe Enzo pulled the trigger. It's the only place I feel safe from the clock. I can't stare at it. So sometime during my shower, the minute my son fired his gun comes and goes.  Or at least that's the plan. I miscalculated the time I was in the shower last night. When I looked at my phone, it was the exact minute he sent out the Tweet: "after careful consideration I have decided to exit the simulation. I love you all so much and I will see you in the next one." I hate 9:01 pm on February 28th. A jolt went thru my heart. I got out of the shower too soon. Unable to decide what to do, I stood there. I took my nightly medication. And stood there.  Shouldn't I be doing something? Some action at the moment my son took his life that would honor him? Something. Anything.  But I didn't. I stood there. Then I went to bed.  I've done a lot to honor...
Post a Comment
Read more