Post Holiday

Well, that’s over.

I suppose I should write something profound and spiritual about the joy of Thanksgiving and the strength of family, but I don’t have it in me. Yesterday was hard. It was good, but it was hard.

It was wonderful to be hugged by my grandkids and my children. The food was delicious, the atmosphere was friendly, and the evening was a success; no fist fights and no police action needed. And as I expected we all avoided the subject of missing persons and endured the sadness in our own ways.

Yesterday, everything was wrong. I woke up to an empty house. It should have been filled with the smells of cooking food and the sounds of banging pots, running feet and the hub bub of voices chattering, laughing, occasionally cursing, and preparing for the annual feast.

This morning, I should be staring at a huge mess and getting ready to tackle the dirty dishes and leftovers. Instead, I am sitting alone in an empty house and preparing myself mentally for the final purge of possessions.

Don’t misunderstand. I am thankful for my family, my friends, my faith, and my future. I know this holiday season is a hurdle to overcome, and we will make it. Still, I am not going to pretend that I am enjoying it. There are slivers of joy, and I’m grateful for them.

But Jamie is not here. And everything is wrong.