Christmas eve came. It was raining. I sat with my coffee on the couch, having awakened feeling tired and meloncholy. I gazed out the living room window. The rain was falling consistantly from the sky. It's a coastal winter rain. The kind that has no beginning and no end, it just seems to arrive when you don't notice, and it can go on for days. There is no thunder with it's arrival, no torrential outpouring of noise, it simply is. The mist seems to fall in upon itself, creating water droplets which fall from the sky.
The moss on the tree outside the window was loving it. In a world of gray rainy gloom, the brightest, cheeriest organism outside was definately the moss. It grows like a thick flourescent green carpet coating the old tree. The tree dropped it's leaves in the fall. Without leaves it seems to be a sleeping tree-being surrounded by a living blanket. The moss grows up the trunk, and spreads out onto the arms and limbs of the tree. It is so wet and vibrant and green.
The raindrops are falling from the sky rather quickly, but not large drops, almost a mist too heavy to stay alight on the wind. The tree is a sponge of wetness, and from it's mossy arms larger drops fall slowly. The coalescing of each droplet seems a moment outside of time, compared to the fast falling of the rain. The eye can not see both at once. You must either be watching the rain, or seeing the droplets falling from the tree.
It suits my grief. I am the tree. The rain falls quickly around me, my tears fall slowly. I am outside of normal time. The sadness engulfs me, and my aching heart beats slowly in time with the tear drops falling from the moss.
I sat there for quite a while watching the tree out the window, feeling it's presence and allowing myself to relate my emotions to what I was seeing. After a while I felt like returning to bed. I remembered the day in 1995 that my mother died on. I remember how my life changed that Christmas eve. Everything changed. My whole world shifted. This year my world has shifted again. My little love is not here to hold and cuddle for Christmas. I know that she's alright, it is simply my yearning for her physical presence that causes me grief. Simple to understand. Not simple to get out of.
Christmas day came. Solara opened her presents. Brent and I didn't get each other much. Money is tight. Anaya's final medical bills sit in a pile on my desk. Somewhere around $50K... we are submitting them to BC medical services plan to see if they will cover some of it. I have to fill out pages and pages of papers and I've been dreading it because the amount of the debt frightens me. I have not yet earned a cent from my job - and although I am working hard at it and I have faith that it will pay off in the end, I'm not sure exactly when I'll be able to pay the bills.
I'm not finding joy in anything. I don't want to play, I don't want to cook. I have no happy thoughts. I am engulfed in a cloud. I've been trying to find my happy thoughts. I've been trying to focus on the positive. It just seems like a horrendous chore right now. I know that eventually I will feel better. It might be today, might be tommorow. It might be a few days from now, but eventually this melancholy will go away.
I had a talk with Solara last night. I explained to her what I'm feeling and how I need to be allowed to be sad when I feel sad. She understood and we connected on a soul level. It is good to be with her. I love her. She's such a creative little being. I did my best to make Christmas special for her - even though I wasn't feeling it.
Sometimes the rain in my heart just arrives and drips from my eyes. It is a coastal winter rain. There is no thunder with it's arrival, no torrential outpouring of noise, it simply is.
Anaya's love is like a moon beam on a cloudy rainy night. I know it's there but I can't see it.