Mommy's Christmas Letter

Dear Analin,

These last few weeks have been so difficult. I love the holiday season with the lights, the trees, the stories of Jesus and Santa and candles that stay lit for longer than they should. It is a season of miracles and beauty everywhere you look. But I can't have mine.

Wrapping presents is usually so exciting - and it was because I made sure we found presents we were excited to give this year. We had to, otherwise the season would have been too challenging. Because there were too few gifts to wrap, and too few to be opened, so each gift had to be that much more special.

Still, I don't even want to do this. I don't want to do Christmas, or go to Mimi's house tomorrow, or go on the holiday we have planned to start right after gifts. I'm afraid of my reaction to the whole thing. I'm afraid of what I might say to someone who doesn't act as grateful as I think they should be. I'm so afraid of so much of it, I'm scared of my reaction, period.

I will bite my tongue, though, crying when I need to but smiling when I can. I will go through with Christmas. I want to experience these things with your brothers and cousins even if we can't share them with you. I really just wish I could sleep through it all and still wake up with the memories - keeping the experiences without having to live through the emotional challenge of it all.

There's a quote in one of my favorite movies that comes to mind today. It's from A Knight's Tale, one of your brothers' favorite movies as well. The line is 'the pieces of my broken heart are so small they could pass through the eye of a needle.' They're so tiny, I'm having trouble keeping a hold of all of them and have no idea if I've actually managed to. I'm not doing well with happy things, or mediocre things, much less pranks and jokes that tend to come with having a lot of family around.

It's all I want to go back to a time you were still with us and change the path so there could be a few more gifts under the tree and your stocking could be stuffed with something other than the paper letters a few people will be writing you this year. Not knowing how that different path would end is just a little more scary than what's happening now.

I'm not able to buy you a present this year, but I can write you this letter. I can think and dream about you. I can love you. I can include you in any way I can and invite others to do the same. We will be sending off another lantern for you tonight, as well, a symbol of our love being with you, so very far away, even though you were with us a short time, just as the lantern will be. It's stupid, all of it, but it's all we have.

I love you, my beautiful little girl. I will do my best to keep my temper and be as strong as everyone thinks I am so I can enjoy the holiday. After all, I have to show up, too.

Merry Christmas, my sweet.

Love, Mommy.