Big hugs to all of you.
My college boyfriend, who was one of my closest friends even after we were no longer together romantically, took his life 3 days before Christmas two years ago. Most of his friends were shocked, because to them he seemed like a "happy go lucky" kind of guy. I knew that he was suffering from depression, as I battle depression myself and we had shared our feelings with each other, but I hadn't spoken with him the few months before he died. My son had just turned 1, and I was pregnant with my second, and I knew that my having children was emotionally difficult for Cedrik to handle. I thought that I was sparing him additional grief by keeping my distance. When I received the call, and learned of his death, I felt a great deal of guilt, and still do. Cedrik was the kind of friend who always took the time to write long, kind, inspirational letters, give a phone call out of the blue, send a thoughtful gift, etc... I had been, over the years, becoming more and more involved in my own life, and at times my own episodes of depression. I really wasn't as good of a friend to him as he was to me. I knew that before his death, and always had the intentions of being a better friend, but would put it off, and eventually put it off until it was too late.
Christmas had always been a difficult time for me anyway. My family life growing up wasn't always so stable. My sister had severe mental health issues during our childhood, and the mood around the holidays was always tense. There was never a Christmas day that did not end in crying and yelling, so as much as I have tried, Christmas is always tough. (The best Christmas I ever had, was when I was living on an island off the coast of Africa. I was sitting on my porch, and someone came by late in the day and called out, "Merry Christmas!". It was only then that I realized what day it was...I had managed to escape it all)
Anyway, today, Thanksgiving was tense and miserable. In the morning, I was searching for a pencil. I couldn't find one anywhere, so I opened a craft box that I haven't touched in a while. Inside were a bunch of beautiful pencils that Cedrik gave to me for my birthday one year. He was always giving gifts to me, and to all his friends, so this happens to me often. It always comes as a shock, though. I open a book I haven't seen in a while, and there is a little bookmark, a gift from Cedrik. These little tokens keep popping up everywhere. He was so generous in that way. The day before he took his life, which was planned and calculated, he sought out a friend who he knew would be without family at Christmas, and gave her a special gift. Anyway, so finding the pencil this morning made me sad and iritable for the rest of the day. My dh and I fought, and exchanged angry, hurtful words in front of the children. Then, he said, "Wow, this is just like Christmas"... and I realized that I was causing all this pain on a day that was supposed to be happy. It had nothing to do with my dh, or my boys, but here I was drawing them in and taking my grief out on the people who are most special to me.
Here is my question; How do you get throught the holidays without escaping to a remote island in Africa? Because, believe me, if I could do that again, I would. But it doesn't seem to be an option.
LisaMarie, I have always admired your strength and your courage to speak to us all so openly about your pain and your loss. Ms Mom, Sierra, Abi... my heart goes out to all of you. I will be gathering strength in the knowledge that we are all here to support each other.
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