Christmas-Just Give Me a Reason

I didn’t do a whole lot today except play Suzie Homemaker. I went grocery shopping, have 15 bean soup in the crock pot, cornbread in the oven, vegetables chopped for salad all week, and I made 32 breakfast burritos for the freezer. My family knows that when I feel a little beaten down, I putter in the kitchen. I hate that no matter how far I come, certain windows are etched on my heart.
Today, the 83 year old bagger at the commissary carried on a conversation with the cashier about how young people do not know how to stay married any more. When he walked out my groceries, he told me that his wife was a cougar. They have been married 62 years and today is her 85th birthday. He assumed I was married to an airman and asked me about it. Well, sir, Thursday would have been 26 years and all I ever wanted was to grow old with Phil. That was my dream. That was my heart.
I am thankful for each and every day–even the hard ones–because I know what it is like to love and to be loved. If all I ever get is that 23 years, I was blessed. The etched window reminds me that my life has been blessed and it is still blessed. God knows that although I look like I have recovered, my heart is knit together like a patchwork quilt. Like a broken bone, my heart beats stronger, but even in mending of the brokenness, it aches in the cold.
I struggle with trying to figure out the holidays and with thinking I might forever be alone. Happy reunions at airports poke my heart not because I do not want others to have what I could not have, but because I wanted that for Phil and I. Holidays with Phil were magical because he didn’t grow up with family celebrations. Since he has been gone, I just can’t get motivated enough to try. I am working on it, but I feel like I have lost the magic of the season. As I putter in the kitchen, I hope that something sparks. Spark and just give me a reason, just a little bit is enough. I want to believe in the magic of the holiday….need to believe in the magic.

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