A grave day

5Twas the night before, the night before Christmas, and all through the house…was nothing.

I’ve walked into the kitchen four times tonight, before I remembered I was actually going through to the laundry for something. I eventually got it. It was for the dogs. Another excuse to go back to my dogs.
I’ve stopped to fall on my bed and cuddle them, more times than I care to count.
I don’t have it in me to choose a movie to watch. I didn’t trust myself to open a bottle.
I got nothing.
2623335172aba7a59144970d48043327I don’t care for Christmas, we’ve established that previously, but it’s really just the time of year. A time when everyone else is out there in the world, advertising the fact that they are with the ones they love. And I got nothing.
The man I love, and only one I want most in the whole world to be with, is far away, content to be with another. The arms that make me feel loved, and safe, and at peace, are no longer around me.
My family is gone. My friends are with their loved ones, and I don’t begrudge them that, but I don’t have it.
971bba00dc3aa31cd4899c35581e47b4  I received a phone call today. A person I have never spoken with in my life, called to ‘remind me’ that tomorrow is the anniversary of my Fathers death. Because, I obviously would forget such small and insignificant things like this.
“We miss him”, she said, “I can’t even delete his number from my phone. So we put flowers on his grave today”.
“Oh”…she says as an after thought…”I’m sure you miss him too. It’s tomorrow you know”.
I can’t even fathom the level of vacuity it took to make that call. After a few seconds of being utterly speechless, I asked her around the welling tears, if she would like a badge for her good deed. The call ended shortly thereafter.
1When my Father was killed in an accident three years ago, it was my front door the police knocked on to notify. I had to hear all the details from officers, with their eyes turned to the floor, to have to give someone such news on that day. I was the one who had to make the phone call to my big brother, to tell him what had happened. On Christmas fucking Eve.
We were the ones who had to drive hours to his house the following week and find his paperwork, clean up and make arrangements for his dog. We were the ones who had to clean the personal possessions out of his wrecked, mangled car at the impound yard, around the dry blood splashed all over the centre console. We had to stay at his empty house, field his friends and family, and sort through all the photo albums. We had to arrange the funeral service, and then travel to attend it. All while you stayed in your comfy fucking home…unable to delete his number from your phone. So lady, just FUCK OFF. And take your flowers with you.

I don’t need to put flowers on a meaningless, stone grave-site to remember my Father. He is with me wherever I go, in what he did for me, what he taught me, how he did his best to raise me, and loved me. He is in my cherished childhood memories, with my Mother, of how much they loved each other, and our family.
And I certainly don’t need a phone call from anyone to remind me what day it is, that we suddenly lost him.
Every year, the shine of tinsel and ring of bells does that for me. The day draws nearer, and I see people get excited for the man in red coming to their house, while the two most important ones in my life, won’t be.
4So you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t sing along with the Carols and put on a paper hat. I know we’re supposed to be thankful for the things we do have…and I am, but some days, the things I am missing, make that focus go a little blurry.
2Hold your loved ones close Kids, tell them you love them as often as you can, life is so much harder without them.
V.
6

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s