Let me start with a simple statement: Life is good. I know it to be true. I'm steadily employed, with a place to call home and the most amazing child who ever walked the earth to share it with. I may have a small pool of friends, but the people who swim there are some of the kindest, smartest, most inspiring human beings I could ever ask to know. And, to top it off, I've got this amazing fellow who wants to spend time with me even when I'm fully clothed. (That was obviously a joke - we're always naked.)
But, even though life is spectacularly, grandly, fascinatingly, stupendously great, this holiday is a lot harder on me than I thought it would be. I've always tried to play this stuff off - "ohh yeah, no problem, I don't need anyone!" I mean, obviously, I love my family and I know they love me, but I like to pretend that I'm so strong, so impenetrable that something as mundane as being away from my family on Christmas can't affect me. And that, my friends, is complete and utter bullshit.
I'm sad. Really sad. I'm so sad about not seeing my daddy and my sister this week that I've been breaking out into spontaneous tears at the slightest little nothing. Add on the fact that my daughter's spending most of Christmas day with her dad and his family, and I'm pretty much done pretending it's okay (stick a fork in me.)
But, what's important (and difficult) for me to remember is that this sadness - it comes from love. It comes from loving people and being loved back, and missing those people. I need to remember that to have a heavy heart is to have a full heart. To miss people is to love them. And that's what really matters on Christmas, right? Love. (Even when it's long-distance.)
