Thursday, December 16, 2010
No presents under the tree
Not once have I written "To: Cora."
Sometimes I don't notice. Like today, when buying gifts with money sent from Grandma Linda and Grandfather Pat. Erin was running around like a crazy woman and Patrick woke up as Mr. Hyde for the second day in a row. I was trying to find good gifts for them (yes, while they were there) and my husband, trying to avoid people in the aisles, and trying to keep them calm. I was focussed.
And then I started wrapping. "To: Dad," "To: Erin," "To: Patrick."
There are no presents under the tree for Cora. When it comes to money, we tend to be more practical, so buying something for a child that isn't there just doesn't make sense. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. What is the thing that she would be over-the-top excited for? What would I get her to wear that would look okay with her complexion and curly red hair? Would I have gotten her and Erin dresses to match?
It's not just the first Christmas that hurts, it's every Christmas. Christmases that I'll never get. I miss her so much. I miss not getting to write her name on labels. Something so simple, it seems, but so very, very huge at the same time.