It’s Christmas time.  Another season gone by.  It was better this year.  Unlike last year, I didn’t want to take the tree down on Christmas Day and erase all the memories of a Christmas without you. This year,  I actually enjoyed the tree, the lights, the true Christmas emotions.  As I write this, I am in Carney.  I thought it interesting that this morning, a Facebook reminder from three years ago came up and you were in it.  Remember when you and I were here three years ago? 

It was a difficult weekend.  Awkward for everyone.  You seemed oblivious to everyone’s discomfort with your presence.  You inserted yourself in a place you clearly didn’t belong.  I was miserable from the moment we pulled in the driveway, really from the minute you announced that you were going to come with me and I had to make the call to my parents that I wasn’t going to be alone. I had hoped that you would stay back and take care of Toby. But as usual, you didn’t trust me enough to let me go by myself. 

I don’t think I ever wanted time to fly quicker than when we were together in Carney.  I just wanted the hours and days to fly by so the entire uncomfortable experience would be over.  Was I wishing your life away, too?  I’m not sure, but in retrospect, I feel a little guilt that I didn’t savor the time together as perhaps I should have.

So I am here today with my daughter and her family.  I have Paul being the dutiful boyfriend, staying at home, watching Toby and texting me throughout the day.  Two things happened that again confirmed that your possessiveness was extreme.  First, I finally told Paul that Brent and I were going to Australia.  I prepared myself for an explosive response as I had come to expect from similar situations with you.  You would NOT have allowed me to go.  Brent would not have even bothered to ask me in the first place.  Paul said he was sad he couldn’t go.  Next sentence was to briefly mourn that we would be apart for a week.  Next sentence was to tell me to have a great time.  The second confirmation came when I told him I was going to Carney with my daughter.  Sad briefly.  Followed by sincere happiness that I had a good relationship with my daughter and that we could travel so easily together. 

This is how I always wanted you to respond.  I wanted you to value my happiness.  But then again, had you truly valued my happiness, you never would have killed yourself.