So I think I can finally say Christmas is over. Not that we really celebrated Christmas. I still don't want to think about God so there were no trips to church. We kept things very low key and luckily D is still young enough to not know the difference between how things are and how they could have been or have been in the past. Now I just have to pack up the Christmas tree and put away the decorations that D made and we can try to move on. (ha ha)
My parents ended up here for 3 days starting late on Boxing Day until this morning. D.G. wasn't too thrilled but he understands that it's hard for me to say no to my parents because overall they have done so much for us (like make it possible financially for me to stay at home with D indefinitely while I "try" to figure out how to live again.) Parts of their visit were nice, like the part where they would get up with D and we could sleep in and the part where they babysat D so we could go out for supper in a restaurant without any children. Other parts were less pleasant, like the part where yet again no one noticed that we had Reid's portrait hanging up in the living room. I finally confronted my mom and she claimed to have not noticed it. Whatever. We had a big long discussion that basically solved nothing and just made me cry for a couple hours. I just don't understand why if people care so much and just don't know what to do to help, why can't they ask what they can do? Oh wait, I know, because they don't want to have to do things they think are awkward or weird, like talk about dead babies. I right out told my mom that I wanted her to say that she was feeling sad and missing her grandson, but apparently that is too much for her to do. I'm just supposed to "know" somehow. Maybe it is selfish, but I am drowning in my own pile of grief, I can't think about other people's grief unless they are willing to share it with me. I just have to get back to not expecting anything from most people so that I'm not disappointed when they pretend that nothing has happened. I just let myself hope that the "spirit of Christmas" would be enough to move people to say something, anything really, to me about Reid or our loss or just that this must be a hard time for us. More proof that a little hope is a dangerous thing.