My Great Sadness

Dear Mike,

I really miss you.  I so often struggle this time of year and frankly it's unfair since your birthday is what starts the fall for me and then the remaining three months are a whirlwind of birthdays, feast days, Saints days we celebrate, the anniversary of your dying and the holidays.  Did you realize that we start with your birthday September 28, our feast day September 29, Kerrigan's birthday October 15, Halloween, The Day of the Dead November 1, and All Saints Day November 2, Corrianna's birthday November 4, Fionn's birthday November 9, Sabrina's birthday November 17, the anniversary of your death is also November 17, Dad's birthday November 28, Thanksgiving, Andy and Drew's feast day is in November I think, St. Nicholas Day December 6, St. Lucy's Day December 13, Andy's birthday December 23, and Christmas December 25?  This is in conjunction with normal life.  It's all important to me.  I appreciate all of it.  I want to share the traditions with my family and with my nieces and nephews.  And I didn't include the holiday baking, crafting, and sewing that my soul enjoys.

BUT, inevitably the great sadness, my great sadness, appears.  And while I don't succumb to it in the way I did before I had kids, I struggle to be present and to have the drive to accomplish and celebrate what I hope to.  I feel badly for my heart not being in it.  I hate just trying to pull off the kids birthdays rather than bathe in the joy that they bring.  I regret that sharing traditions and the joy of this season with my children is a struggle for me to provide even a half-hearted experience.  Kids FEEL that.  They will carry that with them.

I miss you.  I miss you every year, countless times a year, but this year I miss you more.  It's not the same pain as other years.  I miss our family too.  I anticipated Dad, Matt and his family and Mom coming out to visit this Christmas and in February but life happens and trips have been cancelled or postponed.  I totally get it but it's still sad for me.  It's the first time I can remember being truly homesick except there's no home where I'm from.  It's the first year I'm irritated Mom's in Ireland and not closer by.  I'm not mad at anyone.  I just miss my peeps.

When grandma or granddad died, I forget which one, mom asked if we wanted some of the ashes from the cremation.  I thought that was so weird at the time.  Now I get it.  It sucks to live so far away from your grave.  It would have been nice to save some to spread somewhere close by so I could visit you.  I came across your shirt I stole while redoing the closet.  It's the one of the skull with the patriotic top hat, I think.  It's incredibly worn out.  I used to sleep in it.  It has so many holes I had to safety pin it to the hanger.  I should burn it, carefully, and save the ashes and spread them at a river here.  Then I could visit you.  Maybe Kerrigan can help me with it.

Love,

Gabby

P.S. I didn't realize it was the sadness I felt until I discovered the tears chomping at the bit to get through the door, the door of my heart.