Andy has had a sore throat for about two weeks. It's not strep-that would have turned into scarlet fever days ago. The downside of him being sick is that I have had to listen to him complain since he got sick. This morning, he told me he was tired of his throat hurting. My response, "I am tired of my heart hurting."
The holidays used to be such a great time. I loved seeing my family! I loved following all of our little traditions, now my heart just isn't in it. I would love to just pull the covers over my head and wait for Jan. 2nd. I feel like when my parents died, part of me died with them. They were truly what held our family together. Christmas, 2003 was the last normal set of holidays. It was the first time we took over Christmas Eve from my parents because we finally had our own house. Even though I was worried about space for everyone, I plowed ahead anyway. It was one of the happiest holdays I can remember. Little did I know that by the following year, Mom would be gone, and Dad only would have two Christmases left with us.
This topic is a hard one for me, but it is why I feel compelled to write about it. I know how lucky I am to have had my parents until my mid-thirties. There are many who don't have that luxury. But then the holidays roll around, and I also have to contend with the passing of both Mom and Dad's birthdays, and I just want to scream, "It's not fair!" I think what hurts most is that my children won't have the opportunity know my parents, and what truly great people they were, seeing my Mom spoil them, and Dad making pizza on Christmas Eve.
How I just want them here, and how I want people to understand. I want to be able to write to the six pack and say I am having a really bad day, but then I think they are probably so tired of hearing me talk about my parents. So instead, I will trudge ahead through this month, and wish how I had just one more holiday...