After all these years, it still hurts.

I love this time of year! Love it! The months of October-December are by far my favorite as you have so much beauty to look at in the world, the holidays are coming, and then are here. I try to be thankful all year long, but am especially mindful of my blessings during this time.

I have to be honest though, that the holidays are hard too. I dread them being over, and though I feel silly, I always feel kind of disappointed when they have to end. If I had my way, they'd last into January - a natural way to keep the dark, dreary days of winter at bay. :)

Then I miss people from my past- miss them a lot. I try to not think about it much and keep it kind of in the back of my mind. After all, we have to live in the present, and I have SO MUCH to be thankful and grateful for- and I am!

I was doing great this year until yesterday when I saw a photo my Momma posted from her visit here at Thanksgiving. Matthew had put on his JROTC uniform for my folks and they got pictures with him. There was my Momma (about 5'4") with her giant of a grandson (6'5" or so). And it hit me. HARD. My daddy should see this. He should be here to talk to this young man. He should be getting a picture beside him. What would he say to Matthew? What would he think/feel about my son (and my other kids? and me? and Rob? and so on)??? It hurt so bad. Hasn't hurt that bad in a while. Then last night my sister posted her first "family" photos of her, her hubby, and their baby-not-born-but-in-its-momma's-tummy. I thought the same things. My daddy would be so proud of my sister! He would be thrilled about another grandchild being born. He would have another one to pick on, tease, chase, take fishing, sing to, love. And. he's. not. here.

I actually got mad at him. Again. Haven't done that in years. Why did he have to leave us? I hate him for leaving us. But I don't really hate him, just that he left. Wow, I was not expecting such a strong reaction after all these years.

Then today, I visited a coworker's church for their Christmas cantata, and of course there was that song- the one he sang at church his last Christmas- and I tried to keep the tears at bay. When I got in the car, of course, that song was playing on the radio, so I let myself have a small, short cry. I cried. I let myself remember good times, love and laughter, and I cried for the loss of it. I cried as I remembered my daddy, my Uncle Dorvin, my Grandpa Gerling, and a family that for whatever reasons just went away and will never really come back.

God, I miss my daddy, my uncle who used to tease me and love me and make me squeal in laughter, the one grandfather (who wasn't even "really" mine but loved me more than any other). I miss the family I had that went away when Daddy died, that I can never really have again. I hate death and dysfunction and the pain it causes people.

I know I'm a better teacher for having lost. I know I understand my students in ways I never would have without having experienced sorrow, loss, rejection. I am thankful, more than I can ever say, for the family you have left me and the family you have given me. I cherish them more, perhaps, than I would have. For that I am grateful. I am grateful for love, for having been loved, for having lost something good- it means I had something wonderful to begin with, which is more than many people ever have. And, God, I am thankful for who You are, that YOU love me, for who You have helped me to become, and for the love You have poured into my life through others.