Preparing for Christmans #3 A.D.

This Thanksgiving holiday was the first for me that was excruciatingly painful. It wasn't continuously like that -- which is good. But the unbearable nature of the pain came as quite a shock. I don't know why.

Howard's reaction right after Jeff died was to say to me "I would be so incredibly angry, if I were you." I remember the conversation like it was yesterday. I thought it an odd first comment to make to someone whose son had just died. ...Anger doesn't come easily for me, it never has. Always the last emotion to arrive on the scene, even when it should CLEARLY be the first.

I think there is a good reason why all of us cling so tightly -- regardless of the energy it takes -- to keeping a lid on all of the feelings we have when someone we love dies. We do this because we are scared to death to let those feelings out for fear that they will take control of us and simply destroy us completely.

I think that if we let ourselves feel what comes at us, when someone we love, when our flesh and blood, dies that we will feel an intensity of different emotions equal to that of our undying love for the person. But those feelings, if we don't continue to keep them bottled up for years or a lifetime, won't destroy us. Let out, quickly or slowly -- over time -- we may end up coexisting with them.

But it still hurts like hell nonetheless.

I went into Wegman's yesterday to shop and heard the song "You're all I want for Christmas". I can not possibly describe the complete and utter anger I was feeling at every one and every thing as that song continued. I felt consumed by my anger. I felt like I understood completely how another human being could be so filled with anger and despair as to go on a shooting spree. The pain was so incredibly intense that I felt like I HAD to do something to relieve it...my feelings intensified as the song continued. I hated God, Christmas, all of my friends, all of my family, the flippin' Christmas ornaments in the store, the flour and brown sugar and chocolate chips together, on sale, for people to buy for Christmas cookies. The thought of Christmas anything made me want to yell at the top of my lungs.

I drove home as quickly as I could. I was furious. I knew only that I had to do something to get it out and to get it out NOW!!!!!!!!

So I went downstairs into the basement -- found the large punching bag I had bought about a month after Jeff died. I grabbed a long metal stake that I had bought to use outside to secure Cosby's chain and I whipped the hell out of the punching bag. I did it for quite some time. And I envisioned beating the shit out of everyone, everything, destroying every music box that could contain these Christmas jingles, destroying every Christmas light and ornament and tree... EVERY REMINDER of Christmas and joy was being destroyed with every strike I took of the punching bag.
And I yelled at the top of my lungs. And I continued to yell for quite sometime. And after awhile -- the intense pain began to subside.

This is the most God awful experience of my life.

People say that they have been to hell and back -- I feel that people whose children have died not only have been to hell and back but are forced to return their periodically for a visit.

I guess it is like that for anyone that has experienced the death of someone whose love was sacred to them. And for us/them, starting to prepare for Christmas before Halloween is just plain cruel.