This time of year, I move a little slower while every one else speeds up. I annoy easier, struggle to concentrate, and the grief is more pronounced.
This will be my fifth holiday since my son, Charles’, suicide. I’m not mulling over regrets or wondering why I missed the signs.
I just ache.
Even the Christmas carols drain my spirits. What’s more, I resent them. How does one get mad at a bunch of happy, peppy songs? But it feels they are ganging up on me, assaulting my senses and trying to force me to be merry and bright when … Read more...