I’m having a hard time scraping up the energy to find any joy this Christmas season. That’s what all the grief support pamphlets and articles tell you– “find the small moments”.  But Zoey is missing from the small moments too.  Every time I drive in the evenings, I think about how her eyes would have lit up taking in the sparkle of the lights.  I wish I had packages under the tree with her name on them.  But I didn’t even put up a tree this year.  I wonder if she would have cried on Santa’s lap; although I doubt it since she let Fredbird grab her away from me and only yawned at him. I wish this was the first year I would have sent Christmas cards, but now I don’t know if I ever will.  Because no matter what happens, she’ll always be missing.  I fear no one else will notice her absence at family gatherings in the coming years.  But for the rest of my life, I will. I know the real reason for Christmas isn’t the presents and the lights, but I can’t help but miss her so desperately when surrounded by these things.  And honestly, believing that she’s in a beautiful place with so many others that I love is the only thing that gets me through some days.



After I wrote this, I went downstairs and dug out the little tree I decorated with pink ornaments last year.  I decided that instead of just having the ornaments that have been given to us for Zoey sitting on the mantle, they should at least be put on a small tree.  The butterfly on top matches the one my mom took to the cemetery where my dad is buried. They show me that she is remembered and loved.

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