Crushed ornaments and greenery from a fallen tree make a perfect #griefheart. The holidays are hard and for the first time since Charles’ suicide in 2015, we have a small Christmas tree. And some lights because I like lights, especially in the dark.

The tree has all the ornaments the kids made and we filled in with the ones they chose over the years. We had a Christmas tradition that every year, we’d go to CaryTown in Richmond and they’d get to pick an ornament which always turned out to be more than one and close to a one hundred dollar trip. One year, I tried to pass off Target as our destination which was met with disdain from my oldest and Charles followed suit. Giant fish with huge lips and a carmen miranda hat, frog with orange slippers, a giant diamond ring, and a Christmas Dracula are some of the highlights.

They’d come home, hang their ornaments and leave. I would try hot cocoa and music but always, every year, they’d find their favorites, hang them and take off leaving me to finish it myself. That’s what you get with boys. Sometimes I could guilt my husband into sticking with the task. So while it’s not a memory around which Normal Rockwell would have painted a picture, it’s a funny memory and it’s our memory.

When I look at the ornaments with Charles’ picture, I remember how innocent I was. How naive. It’s a good thing I didn’t know what was to come.

What is the #griefheart project?

I explain my #griefheart project here.

See all #griefhearts so far on pinterest or on this blog by#griefheart category.

I refuse to bury my son’s memory