Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

Needless to say, today was a bust. Okay, it wasn’t a total bust. But it was bleh. Dad was feeling bleh all day. The weight of the day and your absence pulled him down a bit.
I, on the other hand, was fine until the Christmas Eve service. Today was just another day of sleeping in, Hallmark movies, driving people places, etc. But then came the service and just walking into the church didn’t feel right. Honestly, I was wishing I was walking into my new church in Ruston. I have a feeling it would have caused less—well, less bleh. I was soooo distracted in the service (and not because of a Narnia obsession this time). I kept thinking of things like, what were we going to have for dinner—are we going to cook or just eat Ramen or something? (We had fajitas.) I still have to wrap some presents. Will there be many under the tree? Will we have anything in our stockings this year? (Not that presents really matter so much—usually it’s just the promise of a to-be-bought present anyways—but I know that you were the one to organize and buy most of those little goodies we received.) This feels weird, standing next to Dad. Will I come home for Christmas next year? (That will probably be a yes, one reason being, I’d probably have to pay extra for housing over break.) I should because family sticks together for Christmas. Especially since I probably won’t have a significant other to join for Christmas. (The only legitimate reason to skip Christmas with the family.)  I’m pretty sure there were other thoughts crossing my mind as well, but that’s all I’ve got for now. The rest of the evening was filled with activity—just kidding. We ate and then watched Holiday Inn. It was like there was that elephant in the room again. We all acknowledged your absence to ourselves but no one said anything out loud. We would on occasion merely give each other meaningful looks. This isn’t necessarily a complaint about not talking about you, because I know each one of us was with some part of ourselves thinking about the obvious fact. I don’t think I really wanted to talk about you anyways. Just keep moving forward, get through the day. I think that’s what was going through our heads. We sat at our usual places for dinner. Lately I’d been sitting in your chair, or we’d just be mixed up all over the place. But tonight, we sat as we used to with your chair standing empty between Dad and Hope. I don’t know if anyone else noticed, but I did. I sat in my usual spot on purpose. Actually, I was kind of glad for the empty chair. It was like we weren’t denying your absence, yet there was still that acknowledgement of your existence and place in our lives.
Now I will try to sleep in order to hurry tomorrow’s arrival. What will the day bring?

Your daughter,
Hannah