Jolly Old

The first Christmas after my father died no one knew how to act or what to do. We went through the motions and pretended things were the same. I hid. I ignored that my life was falling apart. We watched the same presents being torn ooen. he same arguemnts. They same dinners. With a lot more silence.

The second year, well the second year was the year my mother was persuaded she was going to go broke and end up on the streets in poverty. I was in denial and only wanting to drown myself.

The third year my father died my mother spent all her money. 97 presents line the white, artificial tree.

Every year i say goodbye to someone else. SHould that be coming common place.

I knew i would never see evan again. i never saw my father. i went back into the house to hug my grandmother. i looked at a woman and hugged her knowing i would never see her again and then left the room. thats who we become. we accept this. we walk away knowing we will never see someone again. knowing they want to. knowing they dont want it to be the end. knowing they have nothing pressing the to come in on monday. and yet we walk away. it is life and death. she will die. and yet we walk away. do other people? do other people?

i write a letter to Santa every year. i know i'm too old.

They say when you are attempting to give up an addiction that you shouldn't say things like "last cigarette", this will be "the very last drink." they say it adds too much pressure. Whats an addiction though but a fear? a fear of losing something in which you take comfort. so they say. i shouldn't think. i shouldn't count the last ones. the last moments. the last christmas'. so they say.

i wrote evans card. i wrote evans letter. his present. his email. i wrote it all. i wrote a letter for fred. a letter for all who mattered. none will be read.

i wished for him. same every year. i wish for my animals. i wish for my life. i wish for my God. i wish to not have hope but simply faith. i wish that i can stop trying. i pray. i go to sleep thinking that when someone comes, when someone breaks in, itll be better. ill be rewarded. ill have been judged good. i wake up alone. cold. i told evan i would spend that christmas with him but i went home. it was the last time i ever saw my father. i never regretted that i never returned his calls. instead i regret that i went home. i regret that i didnt stay with evan. ill never write anything that will matter as much as that. no list, no story, no wish. i loved him. nothing made can ever amount to something that is.

i'm sorry i left. every second. it was someone else i was saying goodbye too. i dont know how any of us ever walk away.