I’m realizing this morning that I’ve not had this blog a year, meaning I’ve not faced December nor written about it in a very long time. Years I’m sure.
I had a very weird night with virtually no sleep and am trying to nap but the blog keeps calling to me so got up to write a bit before heading out with my family to see Evita. Hopefully I can get a wee nap in before.
I’m aware I’ve been unusually shaky and sensitive and exhausted now for days. My Dr. recently told me my blood work still showed I’m in a state of “Adrenal exhaustion” and gave me something for it. But damn if those little glands on top of my kidneys aren’t actually throbbing this week. Like I’m sure all of you reading out there, I have so many things to do and less time and energy to accomplish it all.
This week I remembered what this Numerologist told me years ago about the month of December. That it’s really a month, being the last one in the year, to go more internal and be more reflective on the prior year and to gather energy before leaping in to January. But we all do exactly the opposite. We are the most active and social in December than any other month. And we get sick. By January, we’re all battling something. It makes sense.
I’m not well. I can feel it. I had a day off this week and so many fun and busy work things I needed and wanted to do and I spent most of the day in bed. I just didn’t have energy to even go up my stairs without being winded. I could barely get the most basic of tasks done but I did manage to decorate my house and pack up my car with tons of remaining decorations to take to Sedona where we will be celebrating Christmas and New Year’s.
This December is a hard one for me. It may be that I have my family so close now and that closeness also brings it’s unavoidable voids. I can guess a million reasons why I’m struggling this year but of course that’s all they are–guesses. This circuitous grief path is mysterious and daunting and at times hauntingly beautiful. And this is, in my opinion, the very hardest thing anyone in this human existence ever endures–losing someone you love and navigating the rest of your life without them. There is just no greater pain. I’m convinced of it. I’ve lived an entire life of this from the age of 5.
Grieving is a strange bird. One thing I know for sure is it’s not something that occurs in stages. Like you graduate from one and go to the next. It raises it’s head when you least expect it and can lighten and lift also unexpectedly as if by some unseen hand.
Cindy was killed on December 23, 1988. It’s been twenty five years this Christmas. Her body was found in the desert by a young boy out four wheeling with his father on Christmas Eve. That little boy came to court a year later and said “I thought it was a deer”. “It” meaning her body.
I’ll never forget his words and my tears that sprung as he said them from that witness stand.
And I’m sure he, now in his 30’s at least, will never forget that Christmas Eve.
I wonder if he ever says a silent prayer Cindy’s direction on December 24th. I wonder if he talks about it. I wonder if he and his Dad do–the dad who stepped in so carefully to see if she had a pulse and walked backward out in his own footprints preserving the crime scene.
I wonder if either of them will ever contact me or my family.
I wonder if we will talk about Cindy at Christmas this year. Sometimes we do, sometimes we don’t.
I’m shaking this morning as I write this. Too little sleep, too much recent trauma, too much of too many things. Thanksgiving was good and rough–John had a glitch , a serious glitch actually, occur with his meds and decompensated quickly. Luckily we (meaning me) caught it and he’s much better now. The thought of heading in to Christmas with him off the rails or worse yet, hospitalized, is, well not something I ever wanted to think about, but did all last weekend.
I had something I’d been planning for some time for this morning implode on me last night and get canceled. I’m thinking this is some sort of sign that I need less planning and less doing and more rest.
So that’s what I’m going to do.
I hope you are finding places of rest as well out there.
Thanks for listening. I’ll have more to say soon, I promise.
But for now, I’m hibernating awhile.