Survived Christmas

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Yesterday was the first Christmas without my dad. It did not feel like Christmas, at all.

On Christmas eve, my daughter was with ex. I tried to keep my mind busy with social media – horrible idea. I cried so much. Christmas morning I cried even more.

Ex brought my daughter home on time – a Christmas miracle.

She’d forgot her memorial necklace at girlfriend’s house. So, I had to drive her over there. This was the second time I’d ever been there. First time during the day. I am not impressed by the house. It looked even worse in the sunlight.

But, I still hate that ex gets a relationship and I am single.

I drove to my parents’ house. Almost got into a wreck. Another driver was texting and came into my lane of traffic. I swerved and they corrected themselves.

Christmas at my parents’ house just felt like any other day. That magic and Christmas spirit was gone. Christmas was dad’s favorite holiday.

We ate. Opened gifts. Visited. But, dad was missing.

We went to the cemetery. That was the first time I’d been there since the funeral. I really did not know what to expect. Tears? Anger? Joy?

I felt a calming over me at my dad’s grave. My daughter and I placed some more flowers – even though all of the flowers from the funeral were still there and looking amazing. We also placed a Santa Claus there for dad. We took pictures – all of us. I wished I lived closer so I could visit his grave more often…

We went to my grandfather’s house afterwards. He has stage 4 cancer. He doesn’t remember much. It was another obstacle of the day.

We got home and played a board game.

Then, almost bedtime and my daughter completely breaks down. She regrets not getting to tell my dad goodbye. Regrets not making her deviled eggs for him. She regrets not spending more time with him. She can’t remember his voice, or his laugh. She can’t remember too many memories of him.

I want her to grieve. I want her to keep my dad’s memory alive. But, I want her to be happy. I want to find the words to comfort her. The words are not there, because I share her regrets and feelings. I tried my best to comfort her. I told her stories of my dad. I told her to go ahead and talk to him; he is listening.

Believe in ghosts or not. My dad is around us. The other day, I went to the store and items fell of the shelves without anyone touching them. Multiple times. Then yesterday, middle child and I both see him walk through the kitchen.

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