Personal Journal

Christmas Eve

I'm not upset that it's Christmas. I'm upset that Jean's gone. I've been looking through pictures today, and it's good - or it was earlier, and now it's a saddening influence, but that's supposed to happen.

The only person for whom I bought a christmas present is me, and admitting that makes me feel selfish. I bought myself a leather coat and gloves. And scarf and two shirts, but who's counting?...
I do like them, and they make me feel strong in my presence when I wear them, which is why I got them. Sometimes clothes do make the man, in limited cases.

Jean wanted a ring, and I didn't get it, and I wonder if now I should? I would have gotten it, if time had permitted. Maybe I should have, but I knew when she checked into hospice that she was going to die, and the practical side of me just shelved it. I think I feel a bit guilty about that.

The sun's gone down again, and the lingering disquiet comes with the night. Nothing is any fun at all. Nothing enables me to be distracted. I'm not "sad," or maybe I'm a little bit sad. I'm lonely, and I'm stuck in this neverwhere of signals that never reach their target. Stimuli unsatisfied.

I'm beginning to not like the night time.

In my world of a month ago, I needed Jean to complete my sense of contentment. I look at her pictures and I'm angry and I'm disbelieving. I want her back. So much.

We used to open all of our Christmas presents on Christmas eve, except for one. We did that because Jean couldn't control her self, really. So when we had our first Christmas, she justified opening them on Christmas Eve by saying that it could be "our" tradition, one we would start together and carry one for ourselves. And I liked that idea enough that I agreed to it. And it was fun.

Tonight is Christmas Eve, and I wish I could find a way to have some fun.

It is never too late to be what you might have been. -- George Eliot
Courage to start and willingness to keep everlasting at it are the requisites for success. -- Alonzo Newton Benn