…the last few days. I’ve been trying to get my Christmas shopping done early this year and I’ve been moderately successful in this endeavor. All has been smooth sailing until earlier this week. I picked up some things from Sister’s list while she was at school. When I got to the car to load the items, I started thinking about how happy they would make her on Christmas morning and it hit me. A feeling that I’ve grown so familiar with in the last few days. My heart speeds up. I get hot and sweaty. I feel a little dizzy. I can’t control the sobs that escape my throat. It happens when I least expect it and I hate it. I hate it so much. I miss my husband. I can’t bear the thought of spending Thanksgiving and Christmas without him. All alone. The kids and I will eat turkey for Thanksgiving alone. We will read the Christmas story and open their gifts alone. I can’t think about it without dying a little on the inside. I think back to last Christmas when we went shopping for our tree (another feat that seems impossible without Big Daddy here) and once we got it loaded, I realized that one year from that moment, I would be without him. Trying to make it work with half of my team. I was so sad that day and I thought that surely nothing could top that feeling and that maybe if I got it all out then, it would somehow be easier when the actual time arose for him to be away. I was so, so wrong.
I am fine most days but I haven’t had one of those days this week. Every single day has been hard at some point and I have ended the only two conversations I’ve had with him in tears. I am kicking myself for that because it’s already hard enough for him without me sobbing like a child every short phone call we get. I want to throw a tantrum. I really do. It won’t do me any good but it just might make me feel better. It may get out all of the tears and sadness so I can go on with this holiday season and this blog that is usually a fun outlet but suddenly has turned all sappy. For now, I’ll settle for a little time to cry while the kids nap. Please don’t misunderstand me. I don’t want pity. I know I can do this and I will. But I need to just say it sometimes to someone who won’t get in trouble for repeating it: This sucks.