As he started to cry, he told me a good friend’s husband died. I tried to console him, but as I hugged him, I slowly felt my lungs inflate, this was not horrible news of my dad’s condition. I felt guilty for feeling lightened by the news. There’s been a lot of death just outside our circle lately. My brother’s best friend’s brother, whom we grew up with, also died recently. It was thought to be a suicide, but after an autopsy this week, it was revealed he had an aneurism. He was 24.

I find myself saddened for those around me, but grateful it isn’t my turn to directly grieve yet. Even in saying this, I worry that I tempt the fates, I think of my mother’s superstition of death trifectas. I can only hope for the best, and pray.

My mother’s father

Two aunts

Myself

Now, my father. The official diagnosis came in yesterday. It isn’t good. I’m devastated.

As a child, I was non-confrontational. I would run to my room, shutting the door, shutting the world out. I would run outside, down the block to the high school track. I would run until I ran out of breath; or until my legs gave out, at which point I would sit on the bleachers and write.

In relationships I’ve run while retreating. My ex avoided conflict even more than I thought anyone possibly could. Sometimes I challenged him. Usually, I ran, because it was easier than being left behind.

I have learned, partially due to therapy and partially to D calling me on the carpet for it, not to run. I’ve learned to stick my feet to the ground and deal with the situation. But, I’ll tell you, sometimes I just want to take off.

Not from him, not from what we have necessarily; just from life. I want to run to a place where the only decisions to be made involve cocktail choices. I want to run away from cancer and sad parents. I want to run from indecisive bosses and demanding patients and acquaintances I just don’t know how to turn into friends.

When I was 8, I didn’t want to share a bedroom with my sister any longer, and I ran away. I ran down the street with my stuff and didn’t know where to go. After a few hours, I went back home and brought my stuff into the spare bathroom, where I promptly made a bed in the shower. Not the best plan, I’ll admit, but it was too cold to stay outside.

Sometimes I want to run. To escape someplace where no one knows me and I have little or no responsibility. A place that is warm but not too hot, where no guilt or obligation drive me. I want to go somewhere where nobody bothers me, unless I want them around.

Sometimes I want to run away from life. I just want to make sure this time, it’s not to a bathroom.

I’m thinking about vintage typewriters and organizing papers. I’ve started and abandoned my to-do lists at work the last two days. My tree is still up and I feel guilty it isn’t cleaned up, but I joke about “good” Catholics not taking it down until the epiphany, so I’m safe.

I’m trying to figure out a plan for a February vacation, and look at shelters for dogs and hire a new assistant at work.

I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. My brain is like a pinball machine, the ball banging from one point to another.

1. I want to be more organized.
2. I want to travel some this year.
3. I want to take more photos.
4. I want to stick to my projects.
5. I want to take time to appreciate the things I have.
6. I want to learn to cherish the people I love.
7. I want to try new things.
8. I want to keep a better routine.
9. I want to get better at something I already do.
10. I want to learn something I didn’t know before.
11. I want to bring my family and D closer.
12. I want to take care of myself a little bit more.

Twelve loose goals for 2012. I think it’s doable.

I don’t make resolutions, but I do have hopes for this year. I’m hoping we take a trip just for ourselves, and another to spend time with my family. I hope D can find some peace at work, and that I can make my work experience better with a few changes.

I hope for better for my family and friends. That their health improves and their lives get a little benefit from luck and perseverance.

I hope to work on the things that bug me about myself, and become a little more accepting of my flaws.

I hope to stay positive and focus on the good.

My father loves this song, and I have the same feelings.

However, hearing him reminds me of my ex.

Then there’s the sadness over not using my own voice.

Funny how a song can be so overwhelming.

My father started the ornament thing. His family was all about the decorations on the tree. A red shiny ball with a name existed for each and every child and grandchild. Others were there to commemorate a period of time or a special occasion. When my mother and father had their first tree, his parents gifted him several of the ones they had collected for him. When I was married, my parents did the same.

I had one Christmas, a few years back, where they didn’t make an appearance. It was a year with a combination of problems, moving soon after the holiday, a miscarriage and cancer treatment left me feeling less than festive. That was a dark Christmas. No photos, no tree, no real celebrating. It was my last Christmas with my ex, but I didn’t know that then.

This is my second real Christmas with D. Last year was our first, and while I was struggling with not working, I had plenty of time to decorate, bake, prepare. The year before that, I was home for the holiday, so there was no big deal made. This year, I’m stressed about my dad and overwhelmed at work. The hours I’ve been home, I’ve been too exhausted to finish my holiday to-do list.

I need to finish the tree, if nothing else. The ornaments mean something, and they may be just the thing to make me feel grateful and possibly even hopeful this December. From the angels for my lost angels to the snowflakes from friends around the globe, I need those memories; those glittery, sparkling, shiny pieces from life. Those tokens of family and Christmases past.

I miss the craziness getting together with all the family brings. As the holiday closes in, we’re trying to decide on our plans, which may just include hanging out with each other, holiday style.

This weekend is the big, formal corporate party, so I am looking forward to that (although, a little less now that his niece will be there) but the rest of Christmas feels anti-climactic.

I’m trying to find some things to do to make the most of the season, but I feel like it’s slipping by.

I’m thankful that I have a job. It is frustrating and without benefits, but it’s a paycheck.

I’m thankful for my family and that they have dinner with all their relatives.

I am thankful that I get to cook and that I have friends to feed, that they’re excited to come to my home and join in my traditions.

I’m thankful that I will be seeing my family in 2 weeks for an early holiday.

I’m thankful I have a roof over my head, a roof with a fabulous kitchen, despite my claim to the contrary during my pre-festivities freakout.

I am most thankful for D. He is kind, and accepting and tolerant. He understands my tears even when he knows he can do nothing to fix them. He is loving and giving and sexy. He is the one I turn to when the world seems big and cold and scary. He lets me sing at the top of my lungs in the car and doesn’t get annoyed by my dorky texts. He indulges my fantasies and my frivolities. He is my best friend and my partner and I often think I don’t deserve him. But, deserving or not, I am grateful that he is a part of my life.

May you all have someone like that in yours. Have a warm and happy Thanksgiving.