Christmas Stockings

I know it's been a while since my last post. I was happy and then sad and then happy again for a while. Writing forces me to think of the good and the bad memories and reminds me of why I miss her, so I think I was afraid to let myself get sad again. Strangely enough, this whole process has helped me cope in so many ways, but it is still hard for me to sit down and let everything go.

The holidays were rough, just as they always are. I wanted to write about how much I missed her at the time, but it would have made me so emotional to do so and I was with all my family. I don't like losing my composure when I'm around them for some reason, so I always try to hide it. But the night of Christmas Eve forced me to let go.

After the family had left, my dad came down the stairs with three stockings, one for both my brothers and me. Since I can remember, our stockings were always full of the most random, but thoughtful, trinkets, toys, jewelry, makeup, tools (for the boys), socks, candy, you-name-it! But those were always put together by my mom, and we hadn't gotten them since my mom passed away. It is definitely something I had thought about and missed, but we're older now so I never expected to get them again or for my dad to worry about something so materialistic. When I saw my dad coming down the stairs with them I knew what he was up to, and I couldn't help break down in tears.

Each of our stockings had candy and toys and bouncy balls.. mostly silly stuff. What really got me was the pink plastic princess set. It had a crown, a ring, some clip-on earrings, a necklace. Of course, it was meant for a little girl.. but that's what I am to my dad and that's the kind of thing my mom would have gotten me when I was younger.

I know the thought of Christmas stockings seem so trivial. But it's one of those things we all didn't really appreciate until it was gone. Ever since our first Christmas without her, I've thought about whether I should be the one putting together the stockings for my dad and my brothers each year. But I never had the time or money to do so, and I've felt guilty about it each year. All the things that my mom did, I feel like maybe I should be playing that role now. But then where does it end, and how much can I do?

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I've actually written a lot over the last few weeks, but I've been so scared of posting anything for fear of trivializing my mom's life or inflicting self-pity. I'm worried people will start thinking I'm that girl--the one who writes these things for attention. The honest truth is: I don't need attention. I need help, and that's why I'm writing. I'm not writing for sympathy or pity. My heart hurts. I've been doing everything I know to make myself feel closer to her, but the closer I get the more I miss her. I'm so confused, and I guess this is my way of looking for answers.

Over the next week I'll try to post the things that I've been putting off. It still makes me feel nervous and vulnerable, but it's an obstacle that I'm trying hard to overcome.