The first holiday season after the loss is the hardest, the counselor stated. I gave it some thought and I decided I disagree.
This holiday season is the hardest after a loss. And the next will be as well.
The pain grows less acute, but holidays are landmarks. They hold strong memories and always will.
My old man made a special sauce every year to flavor the turkey. His own concoction, possibly based on his brother's. In my mind's eye, I can see him still, hovering over a heavy old cook pot dropping in a bay leaf, stirring with an old wooden spoon. It was a sign of Christmas as much as trimming the tree or hanging a reef.
Remembering is bittersweet, but remembering is also coping.
Because he is gone does not mean he never lived.
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