December, the month of overindulgence, the warming sea, the longest days. L'heure bleue lingers for hours after the sun sets. This time of year is full of beauty but is so melancholic to me, as if every glorious moment is tinged with the sadness of something lost.
It's my birthday soon, the tenth without my Dad. Christmas and the New Year haunt me in the same way, each one like turning the page on a book that you've almost finished reading but never want to end. The book is called When You've Lived Longer Without Your Father Than With. It's a pretty depressing read but it's not over yet, I'll let you know what happens when I find out.
I think what troubles me the most about the silly season is how a single moment is so often filled with the greatest joys and the deepest sadness. So many occasions to celebrate, so much joy. Yet for me, with such joy comes such an overwhelming awareness of who is missing. It's kind of torturous you know because the better things get, the more I feel the sting of grief.
Anywhooo, they are my thoughts and I've been thinking them a lot lately but haven't been able to put them into words until now.
Thanks 2015, I'll be glad to see the back of you in many ways but you showed me so much. How to survive a grueling year of study and prac, how to survive on the lowest income I've had since I was 17, how to be loved, how to fall apart and survive.
Here's to a new year dawning.