First Christmas without Shane. It sucks. *Don't read if you want to stay in holiday cheer*

It's been a long while since I've been to this blog.  My memories of Shane doing this blog himself are slowly fading away.  It's hard to believe that this is almost the end of our first year without Shane.  Our last Christmas was bittersweet, because Shane's health was starting to fail & we were just waiting for that one thing that would tip him over to the slippery slope of impending doom.   Once that happened,  we knew that the decline would be inevitable.  There would be no time for him to regain some equilibrium.   It would be this inexorable decent into death.  Shane had hoped to stay as long as possible.  I had hoped, too.  He had a wonderful, loving Christmas, but I guess the stress of celebrating was too much and it konked out his equilibrium.

Sometimes, the pain of grief isn't about losing the one you love.  For me, it is the memories of Shane being in pain, or suffering from his cancer that makes me cry.  Shane didn't look well, after his last Christmas...  He started his unending suffering on December 27, 2011.  His pain never dissipated until his death on January 19, 2012.  Twenty-four days.  They weren't all bad.  And Shane & I had kept on hoping.

Throughout this particular Christmas season, I was trying to figure out why I wasn't overly enthusiastic about celebrating or anticipating happy, joyous cheer.   The first year after the loss of a loved one is always hard.  You mark the year with holidays and significant events that is supposed to be shared with the one  who no longer with you.  For me, Christmas will always be the beginning of the end.  The end of a shared life with Shane.  Gah, depressing.

I was hoping to be with my folks this Christmas.  Unfortunately, one by one, the kids & I fell prey to a nasty virus that requires about a week to recover.  So we're spending a quiet Christmas at home, quarantined from everybody.  We decorated our home, & made it warm & lovely.

O Christmas tree...

Our festive fireplace mantle.

But Shane is not here.

I have discovered, during this year, that I did a lot of things, more for Shane's benefit, than for me.  This actually surprised me.  For example, Christmas was a significant holiday for Shane.  He loved it.  The presents with gilded wrapping paper.  The turkey with stuffing.  The cranberry sauce.  The songs on the radio.  The stockings stuffed with toys and candy.  He had to have it.  As a consequence, I decorated the house, baked cookies, and took care of the Christmas shopping, all the while singing carols into the air.  This year, as I started to go through the Christmas rituals, I felt so empty.  I couldn't understand, because, heck, my kids are still here & they love Christmas. Then, I realized how many things of "Christmas"that I did to please Shane and to make him happy.  And I loved making him feel loved and happy.  Because he loved me and made me happy.  It's like breathing and not being conscious of your chest rising and falling with each breath.   You adopt routines and traditions for the sake of your partner.  You do things for each other, because you know they like it and you love them.  You don't even consciously think about it, like pouring an extra cup of tea for them or stroking their hair when you pass by them.  It's automatic and you start taking it for granted.  And, then, he's gone, and you slowly wake up to all of these obsolete routines that you've established together.  Throughout the whole year.

It is sad, but it is not overwhelming the simple joys of life.  Sometimes, I can imagine Shane stroking my hair and saying "It's going to be okay.  Now, stop crying and blow your nose, because you're starting to look gross."  In a way, I'm glad that the kids & I had to stay home for Christmas, because my memories of Shane & our life together are close and warm.  Merry Christmas, sweetheart, and God bless us all.