February 3rd and My Christmas Tree

I'm sitting here typing this post with my Christmas tree still up and still illuminated. Call me crazy. Although I regretted putting it up (thankfully Carrie and Angie helped me), I am glad I did because it now gives me comfort. I come home to a dark, quiet house at night, and I can turn on the tree's lights, and I don't feel so alone. In fact, having the tree up decorated with all the decorations we purchased together over the years became an important tradition. We bought most of them, of course, at Pottery Barn and Target. He was always on the lookout for finding beautiful glass ornaments during the after-Christmas sales. No surprise that we didn't pay full price for any of them.

When Michael went to New England the week before he died with his mom, he purchased a couple different ornaments. I now have them on the tree, and I often look at them and think about him. One is a witch ball that he purchased in Salem, Massachusetts. The big purple glass ball is believed to be able to catch spirits in it, and you can look at it and see different shards of glass blown in it to give it that feeling. The other is actually a pair of little glass red lobsters he purchased in Maine.

One of our last nights together before he died, he pulled the ornaments out of their bags to show them to me. He had such a good time with him mom, and he was so excited for us to take a trip to New England so he could take me to the little shops where he purchased them. He was so happy with them and couldn't wait until Christmas to put them on the tree. Although I couldn't go on the trip, he said these ornaments were a way to help me feel like I had been on the trip with him -- and now they do connect me to him more than he had ever planned.

I really have no plans on taking the tree down anytime soon. Especially during the cold dreary days of winter, the lights reflecting off the ornaments help me just a little bit. This evening after my game for some reason was hard. I've felt a rush of sorrow and pain from missing him -- even though the dull pain has never left. I lie awake at night and think about where he is and how his spirit is. I hope with every ounce of my being that he's happy and at peace. For now, I have the Christmas tree in February to help me find a little peace. Today I really need it.