The second year of holidays

Halloween is soon approaching. This was a time of year I look forward to. October 1 started it all off for me. It was when I used to go out gather up corn stocks, hay bales, and Indian corn. It was a time when I put out tombstones, Witches hats, spiderwebs, and carved pumpkins lit with candles inside. I painted many faces and dressed little girls as princesses, clowns, witches, and the like for many years. I've passed out candy to many ghouls and goblins.

Then following Halloween, just as we're packing away the last pieces of candy corn, we bring out the cornucopia. Our porch is changed from a make shift graveyard to Pilgrims and turkeys. We all get ready for the family gatherings. We do the final seasonal cleaning making sure the ovens are all scrubbed so that not a piece of Easter ham is leftover to burn on the very bottom, as we now turn our attention to turkey and pumpkin pie. It's a time of family gatherings,well wishes and giving thanks. And just as soon as we put the turkey in the refrigerators and wonder what kind of leftovers we're going to have when we come back from Black Friday shopping, it's Christmas time again.

Our porch is now turned into a winter wonderland of snowflakes,sleds,Christmas trees, twinkling lights and Santa Claus. We put up the lights along our rooftops and candles on each window. We mark each window with a green wreath tied with a beautiful red bow. And inside again, family will gather. We will sit quietly by as we watch the little ones, the new ones, the teeny tiny babies in the family,gaze at the tree and wonder what Santa Claus will bring them this year. On Christmas morning when everybody's awake, presents will be ripped open amongst happy laughter and squeals of delight and paper will be torn and thrown everywhere. You will hear everybody saying "thank you," "oh it's just what I wanted," " how did you know?"

Then, there are those of us who, like me, will sit and remember. Before death came. When they were here with us. I look upon this year's holidays with a little trepidation. I am a bit stronger this year. I got through the year of "firsts." This is the second season without my Krystle here with me. It starts again on October 1, her birthday, followed by things she loved, and things she won't be here for. I take out the styrofoam tombstones she bought me before she died and put them in the yard. These were the last things she bought at some yard sale three years ago for me. All four of them. They really do need tossed because they have been through it and it shows, but I just can't bring myself to do it...yet. I remember her and I dressing them up..her proud face the day she gave them to me. I treasure these little icons as if they were gold because, to me, they are priceless.

I remember last Thanksgiving, the start of baking season. I made myself do normal things. Things I always have done during the holidays. I pushed through it. I took down my cookbooks. The same ones I have used for the past 30 years. I opened them up and there on the very first page, were scribbles in pencil. To you they look like that. Those were Krystle's first attempts at writing when she was 3. She sat at the kitchen table writing in them. She said she was writing down recipes. The marks are still in there to this day, forever stamped in time. Last year when the pages flipped open and I saw those, I fell to my knees and cried for what I no longer have. I look at those cookbooks now and wonder if I will react the same way this year when I reach for them. My daughter is all around me, yet so far away.

I remember during Thanksgiving last year going around the table and everyone reciting what they are thankful for. I don't remember what I said. I knew what I was not thankful for. I think it was hard for me to find a reason to say prayers of thanks. Christmas was now upon us all that day after Thanksgiving last year. People asked me what I wanted. I knew in my heart what I wanted was totally impossible to get. I knew Santa Claus did not have a bag big enough or that much pull to reach into Heaven and pull my daughter back home to me. So I just simply would say "nothing. I have all I want," when truly I was trying to make myself believe that. I went through motions of letting each day pass and grow into another day.

Soon, New Year was here. I still kept the pennies in my pocket, as I always do, for good luck. But, again, I had to force myself to make a wish. What does a bereaved parent wish for? What I truly wanted was a HUGE gigantic eraser to wipe out the past 6 months. I wanted a re do. But again, no magic of that night brought forth what my heart wanted and my brain knew was not possible. So, there I was. I woke up with a brand new year upon me. I was still one child less. My wedding day was fast approaching. April 5. I threw myself into all the plans needed. I was excited and anxious but a bit melancholy. The tears from my broken heart fell less, but they still fell. As I took my place in line for my walk down the aisle, I looked at my two daughters and my grand children. One was missing. My eyes met my oldest child who told me "don't cry mommy, you will ruin your makeup." I asked her if she knew why I was crying and she said "yes. I wish she was here too."

It has been a year of those moments. The kind when you look at those you love and they just know why your eyes are clouding over. Why you are reaching for the tissues. Why you just quietly sit and say nothing at times. They just "know" because they are doing the same thing. Each in their own way. But the thing is, for as many tears that I have shed over my daughter Krystle, for as many times as that scab on my heart got pulled off and re healed, I grew. I got stronger. The first time I took out her pictures and looked at them and actually laughed, I shocked myself. It felt good. Each picture was a memory and boy, it was funny. When I walked into stores where her and I would shop, I felt as if she was still there. I talked to her as if she was. And, I did not care if people thought I was crazy. And, it did not matter. And, it felt better. When certain songs came on the radio, I found myself singing along without tears of sadness and I did not change the station. It felt better. Those little things felt like I was crossing a wide gap over huge mountains, and I crossed them. I was leaving the land of sorrow behind. I was leaving the self doubt, the broken mom behind and was taking all that I have been through and re building her. I now share stories of her with my husband, her sisters and my grandchildren. And, guess what? We laugh! And it is ok! It has been hard but I have realized that she would want us to laugh and it is ok. That is who Krystle was. A jokester. A tree hugger, a hippie, a sprite in her own way. She was the essence that held our family together, and she still is.

This year, as I put the tombstones in the front yard and dragged the grim reaper out (the one Krystle and I picked out so many years ago) I talked to her. She answered by making the wind blow the leaves out of the way. I smiled. I have healed. God Bless all of you this holiday season.

Love, Krystle's mom.