I’m tired, so very tired.  The last couple of weeks have been hectic and I’ve travelled far more than I like to. I feel like I am running constantly, from work to appointments, home then back to work. As Kevin would say, ‘koyaanisqatsi, life out of balance,’ a composition by Philip Glass.  I know my life is out of balance, and has been since he died.  I know that I am pushing too hard right now because I am trying to avoid thinking about how my family will get through the next couple of months, through Christmas.  I know that at some point, as a result of behaviour like this, something has to give.

I think Sunday afternoon was when my walls started to crumble.  It was a nice day, good for doing yard work.  I went out to rake the leaves and, of course, started to cry.  The tears were streaming down my face as I thought about Kevin and how focused he would be on getting the darn yard tidied up for winter.  In my mind i saw him raking the leaves into big piles.  In my head I heard him laughing about the rookies that bagged their leaves.  Not Kevin, he mowed them and then, maybe, if he felt like it, raked them back over the lawn to decompose.  Not the prettiest sight, but it sure made for healthy soil.

It’s hard accepting the new way that is my life.  I know I am like a broken record, but truthfully it’s painful not hearing his voice, smelling his smell, wondering ‘what’s next?’ because he always had some crazy idea or scheme brewing in his very fertile mind.   It was hard at Hallowe’en because every year Kevin would crank up some eerie sounds outside the house and set up a strobe light, which he, for some reason, thought was really scary.  It wasn’t but you couldn’t tell him that.  So yes, it’s difficult to think about Christmas.  Even last year, as sick as he was, he plotted the annual tour of lights, an evening drive around town to view the Christmas lights. So what do I do at Christmas?

Grief counselling has been so good in this regard.  We’ve considered Christmas and how important it is to ensure that it remains as important and special as it ever was.  That the children lost their father, it would be awful if they lost Christmas as well.  There are no guarantees though, as to how it will play out.  That’s the part that worries me.  Am I enough to make Christmas special for my children?  I love them unreservedly, and i know i carry their father’s love for them in my heart.  We will make the best of it, we have to.