Bah. Humbug. Unprintable Words.

Dear John,

 

Is it January yet? Can I go hibernate until January 2nd? The holiday season starts tomorrow, and I've already had enough of it.

 

The radio is dreadful now. I have four decent radio stations to choose from, and two of them are doing all Christmas, all the time. Today I ventured, with great fear and trepidation, to give them a try. The first time I got Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. The second time I tuned in just in time to hear, "All I want for Christmas is you." Everything I have to say about that is impolite and unprintable.

 

There's been a flurry of Facebook posts reminding people that the holiday season, as a family time, isn't true or pleasant for everybody. I'm finding that something we were taught in my psych nursing classes is very true. The season holds up an unattainable standard of family togetherness and happiness. We're all supposed to suddenly turn into the Waltons. But nobody really does, and lots of us are alone. It's no wonder the suicide rate skyrockets this time of year. It's hard on many more people than most folks can imagine.

 

And it's harder than people imagine. The movies and commercials and music, showing happy, healthy, prosperous families, rubs salt in the wounds of so many of us. I avoid as much of it as I can. It's all been bittersweet to me since my parents died and there is nobody left that remembers my childhood Christmas times and traditions. Now it's like a knife turning in my gut.

 

WFFs - Huddling Together

Thank goodness for the WFFs! I can't imagine my life without all of my dear, wonderful widow friends. Did all of you guys get together and pray that your wives would find each other? If you did, please give my gratitude to all of them. Someone must have, because it's such a gift and a blessing for us to be together, especially this time of year. I did it alone last year. But now I'm not alone anymore, and it's the best thing since you.

 

Give my love to all the guys, and please continue to pray for our little conclave as we take refuge from the storm. And it you figure out a way for us to hibernate until January 2nd, let me know!

 

Love you, adore you, and worship the ground you walk on,

Joan.