I've had a really bad, defeated attitude lately. One that doesn't feel normal for me or all that familiar. A good part of it has to do with processing my grandma's death. It isn't so much missing her, even though I do miss her. I am used to missing her. I missed her all the time. Every conversation I had with her after we moved away from her town 15 years ago included the sentence, "I miss you so much, I wish I could see you more."
In a couple of days we are going to have Christmas. It is going to go on the same as it does every year. This year, knowing that her house, my favorite house in the world, the one that gave me the coziest most definitive Christmases of my life, is empty? That those people and that place are just... gone? That is wrecking my joy. It's depressing. It's kind of like someone came and pulled the tablecloth right out from under all of my glass parts. I am used to having the breakable pieces of my mind and heart lined up a certain way, and even though they are all still there and in the same order, they are resting on something different now. Life feels less rich.
I want and need to focus on my babies and husband and home and new traditions; on making our home a place where we can have cozy, definitive Christmases, together. I can't wait to give that to them. This year I am just a little low on energy. This year I will have to fake it a little.
|i made these cookies with my kids and my little brothers from trader joe's boxed mix. fake-fake-faker.|