Tears and Beers

I have no idea what my problem is. I cannot seem to shake this icky feeling I've had for the past week or so. It's Christmas.. I should be out celebrating, shopping, dining with friends and spending quality time with family.

But I have NO DESIRE to do any of those things.

I literally don't even care that it's Christmas, a feeling that is completely foreign to me. I don't want to hear Christmas music, I don't want to shop until I can't possibly shop anymore, and I certainly don't want to wrap presents. He was going to teach me how to wrap presents without using tape this year. That was what we were going to do together. It was his mission, to teach me to wrap a present perfectly. Not knowing that last Christmas would be the last Christmas I would have with him, I randomly put out all of the little things he gave me over the years. They're all over my desk, the little tags he would write on my presents, the rubber ducky he said I had to have, the tigers eye stone he gave to me. None of that was on purpose.

The week he passed away, a client of mine passed away. My client passed away on Monday and when our office got the call I burst into tears. I felt like that call could be about Hank, at any point I could receive that call. Little did I know that I'd receive that text that upcoming Sunday.

I had just sent a text to his wife asking to come visit, a visit I never got to make. I feel so fucking guilty for being so busy this past summer. I feel like I should have made more of an effort. I should have called more.

I didn't realize it would happen so fast, just like I didn't realize Christmas would approach so fast.

Our Christmas party last year was weird. He wasn't his typical jolly self. He sat there quiet listening to everyone ramble on about odds and ends. He wanted something that I could make for Christmas, so he got lemon loaf. I didn't make it, Mikaella did. Am I that self absorbed that I couldn't even take a moment and make him something? Take a moment and call him? Fucking say I love you one last time?

I know I'm better than that. I hate hearing "oh its ok, he knew you loved him, he knew how much you cared, he knew you were busy..." - I was selfish. End of story. I should have been there. I should have gone to the hospital, I SHOULD have called. Now it's too late, and I knew better.

Tonight I'm not sulking, or even feeling sorry for myself. I'm just straight up sad and disappointed. I miss him, I hate sitting in this office and looking out my window and expecting to see that charming grin smiling at me as he passes me every morning. I'm tired of looking the other direction and seeing out the open door his empty office.

I thought I'd have a better grip on things by now. I thought I'd let it go with the funeral, but it seems that the funeral brought it all back up again. It hurts. I feel stupid for even being sad still. I don't even remember being this sad when my blood Grandpa's passed away. Is that sick to admit? They all either passed away in Dec or were buried in Dec. Literally.... why!

Questions I'll never have the answers to. Beers and tears on a Friday night aren't as bad as I expected.