And all through the house…

Not a single holiday sentiment was stirring.

trying to find the words and all that comes is pain

pain, tinged with guilt and hatred

I see my words typed. words expressing the hurt of what is lost

delete. I hate myself for the words I spill.

I feel the destruction of my self as I turn the hurt inwards

hating myself for not being able to just be happy

let go of what was, I am told, over and over again

be happy for what I still have, I am told

the pain, the hurt, the fucking hurt

sears into me every day of this joyous season

coupled with loathing for my inability to just be happy again

I am sick to death of all the feelings that I can’t bear to feel anymore

sick of mourning and grieving what was

it isn’t easier, it isn’t getting better

the holidays were special to me. a time of family and being together

a time of cinnamon buns in the morning

leftovers and turkey sandwiches and bellies too full for dessert

of watching my family and feeling how “right” it all was

now gone.

take out in the fridge instead of it bursting with leftovers

no tree, no decorations, no ornaments dangling

no presents and stockings waiting for the morning

no holiday feeling at all

just pain and feeling how “wrong” it all is


One thought on “And all through the house…

  1. I remember hating the holidays after my son died. I’m so sorry for your pain. It sucks. But I’m glad you can express it here. There are so many other people who understand – those who have lost a child unfortunately know it all too well.

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