The Fog Always Clears

Next Friday marks three months since my Dad died but it feels like it was both years ago and just yesterday. Time becomes an entirely new entity when you’re trying to occupy each minute that passes with the intent to make every second more valuable. I can’t imagine this will feel any better in months or years from now, or that it won’t ever stop feeling like it was yesterday. I had a dream last night that he was still alive. I’ve had many, many dreams like that since November 19th. I’ve been told it means that he’s visiting. I grasp onto believing that’s true. 

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Stepping Stones

I’m trying really hard to not be bitter but I’m only human. With the upcoming holidays literally harassing me every place outside of my bedroom, I’m filled with equal amounts of excitement and anxiety. 

This is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year but what if it is god awful? I’m starting to feel like I’m walking a tightrope except if you know me, I have no balance whatsoever and trying to figure out how to carry this weight is increasingly difficult. 

Every year, the second weekend of December, both sides of my family get together to pick out our Christmas trees. All twenty-two or so of us meet for breakfast at 8 am. We’d take up about half the diner and have two waitresses. Since my family is full of December birthdays, it’d usually fall on my Dad’s, my brother’s, my cousin’s, or my own, and we’d celebrate that with a candle-topped blueberry muffin. 

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