So yesterday Ruby stumbled across a box of memories from Trenton’s memorial. I had bought a bunch of good A4 paper and laid out some coloured textas, and asked that people write down a message for the girls, or a memory of Trenton on it for me to make a book out of at a later date. I’d never been able to read them before now. Yesterday we bought the biggest Christmas tree we could find, and dug out all the old decorations to get the house looking Christmassy at Poppy’s request. This in itself is a tough task….. we all want to be joyful and excited at the prospect, but any little thing can set us off. Last year we went to the Christmas tree farm down the road to make it a big, fun outing to possibly take the limelight off his absence, but after painstakingly picking the tree, we all cried as we watched the man chainsaw it down…… I don’t think the tears were for the tree. I was quietly happy this year that we wouldn’t be home till the 5th of December from our US trip, because the lead up to every Christmas is a really tough time on anyone that has has a significant loss in their lives. It was once our favourite time of the year, as it was Trenton’s favourite time of the year, and he would make it exciting and fun for the girls till we had the wonderful task of watching them receive their Santa presents on Christmas morning. He was such a big kid himself. This is our third Chrissy without him, and although there are bigger gaps between the times where you just can’t function, it doesn’t seem to get much easier. I’ve said it before and I still believe it, everyone else’s lives immediately go on…. and although they miss him dearly, you’re left with the gaping hole in your everyday existence because he lived with you 24 hours a day. I know his family feel the same way…. it’s really tough. Anyway, I read through this box of messages to him, to us and a couple of funny stories about his drunken shenanigans….. and damn did it kick me in the guts. I just remembered how much I miss him. Like a missing limb to be honest. I struggled to picture his laughing face, even though I’m still surrounded by his photos. I needed to picture him laughing and talking…. and alive. If I could take the last night I ever saw him out of my memory bank, I’d do it in a second. Those visuals overtake my wonderful memories of him constantly….. as it does for the kids who re-live that event over and over again still. It’s horrible enough to lose someone so young and vibrant in their time, but to lose them in such a tragic, horrendous way just adds to the pain of trying to accept that they’re gone. I could think of a thousand ways I’d rather we lost him, but we don’t get a say in these things. And to be honest I still feel like he was never meant to die. I’m sure everyone feels the same way about their loved ones. Anyway, it’s even sadder to read these wonderful messages from people that have promised to look after his family that he left behind, and in truth you’ve barely seen nor heard from them since that horrible day. Two and a half years ago this month…. and barely a word. Death brings out the best and worst in people. It makes the least likely people shine, and the most likely people fade. Fact. So in turn, it sorts through the worthy and the not so worthy people on your behalf…. and neatly disperses of the latter. I am watching the sad and helpless messages filter through into my online Widow support group more and more each day. Christmas, even if you don’t celebrate it, is the time of year to celebrate your family and friends. So in turn, it’s the saddest time of year for these people, or anyone estranged from their families. Some are escaping the country, some embracing it head on… whichever way you tackle it, you certainly can’t escape it. I think we are uber sensitive to anything and everything at what is generally supposed to be a joyous time of the year…… So I just hope everyone finds their own way of dealing.
Ho fucken Ho. xxxxx
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