Am finding it hard to believe that Christmas is over. Christmas Eve was a beautiful service at church with hugs galore; Christmas morning was spent taking my sweet time getting ready, walking the Bombshell, then visiting Chloe & Isaiah's moms for a bit. The rest of Christmas was spent with my dear friend Jennifer and her beau Scott; we went to the movies ("It's Complicated," a nice piece of fluff, as long as one doesn't contemplate it too long) and then had dinner (Jennifer knows her way around the kitchen, let me tell you!). Sweetness all around.
Speaking of sweetness, during my visit to the under-three set, Chloe said something very dear about my taking good care of Linda to make her better; brought tears to my eyes for a number of reasons. The most tear-inspiring being Chloe's take on things and the fact that my care wasn't enough to save our gal. I know, I know--a number of the best oncologists on the Eastern Seaboard (if not in the entire U.S.) couldn't save our gal either, so there's plenty of ineffectiveness to go around.
Nearly four months out, I am missing Linda more. Found myself in her closet yesterday, gathering an armful of her shirts for an inanimate group hug. Was reassuring, somehow.
Was wondering if I was ready to send her clothes packing yet. I don't think so.
Well, I was going to attempt to load some photos from the camera this afternoon (pictures of the demon juicer, most urgently), so close I must. Before I do, allow me to pass on something a dear colleague at Big Company wrote to me last week. I don't remember it verbatim, but she wrote that after about 20 tries at coming up with the right holiday wish for me, she landed on this: "May your holidays not suck as much as they could."
Works for me. Wishing all that--and more--for you.
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