Russ did give me one unexpected, not talked about gift. We were rarely separated, so when I had to fly east unexpectedly for a funeral he was lonely. He bought me a glorious lapis necklace which I have only taken off, in all these years, when I swim. It circles my neck in endless love.
So this Christmas, without him, I mourn our Christmas traditions of decorating, sharing with others and celebrating us. As I put lights on Fat Albert (our outside tree) I felt an almost suffocating wave of sadness wash over me. I seem unable to articulate this wash of grief. though I do try to 'remember' the joys.
This was an EVERY year tradition. Joan gave Russ a small wooden tool box ornament when she was a teenager. It was always Russ' favorite ornament to put on the tree and this year when I pulled it from the tissue paper in the ornament box, I just cried, remembering...
I guess my emotional state is that I have no desire to reflect on the significance of this past year. I do not wish to recall the surreal start or how I felt dressing Fat Albert in lights last week. I want to recall Russ' joy in life, his love for his children and grandchildren and the calm of this scene; a man in a wheelchair not sequestered in self-pity, only his love for life.
Postscript:
Two neighbor boys just dropped off treats they had made along with a picture of Russ riding his tricycle - my man of determination.