My Christmas Wish...

I want to feel something. Anything. I want to be awed by the lights, I want to be moved by the music, and I'd give anything to feel joyous. But I don't. 

I used to love Christmas. I used to spend days making the house festive and beautiful. I would worry about finding the perfect gifts, and make sure they were wrapped just so. I would play and sing carols for weeks, never tiring of them. I would read 'The Night Before Christmas' to our son, and when he grew older, I would listen to him read it to his younger cousins. 

When Zach hit his teenage years, the magic changed. He no longer believed in Santa, he didn't rush out of bed Christmas morning to tear into his gifts. But we still celebrated, and we still honored our traditions. We made holiday crafts, we watched movies, and we stuffed ourselves full of junk food and candy. I loved it. Though part of me longed for the days of innocence and wonder back. So I would dream of someday seeing our grandchildren's eyes light up with pure happiness at the lights on the tree. Of hearing them squeal in delight as they tore into their stockings and presents. Of seeing Zach watch them with the same pride and joy we had watching him. That's the way it's supposed to go. And I'd mistakenly believed that we would get to experience that. 

Then we lost Zach.  And with him, the magic died as well...

We don't celebrate Christmas anymore. I don't decorate, I don't listen to carols, I haven't even bought a single gift. People joke and call me Mrs. Scrooge, or say "Don't be such a bah-humbug!" and I feign a laugh, knowing that they'll never really understand why I feel the way I do. I scroll past their happy family photos around the tree, and my chest hurts, my eyes burn with barely contained tears. I read their cheerful posts, and I want to be happy for them. I AM happy for them, but I'm also jealous. And angry. I want my family back. I want my future back. I want all the things you're promised in life, that you take for granted. 

I wanted to have my son bring home girlfriends for Christmas, so I could try to embarrass him by telling them stories of him growing up. I wanted to help him pick out the perfect gifts when he finally found that one special girl. I wanted to surprise him and his new wife on their first Christmas with all the ornaments I had bought and made for him each year of his life, and then give them their first one together. I wanted to be the world's best grandma, and have our home filled with the laughter of grandchildren on Christmas morning. I wanted a happy, normal life. 

But I guess that was too much to wish for....