Barneyisfat

I celebrated Christmas today. It was one of those random moments that I'm slightly notorious for. There remains a slight perception that in my family people either end up eccentric or crazy - and I have few qualms about embracing eccentricity.

Truth be told, the need to celebrate Christmas had something to do with losing Jonathan. There was some hint of grief and indwelling sadness, a hint that might remain for some time. I couldn't quite make the connection. It's like the lochness monster, I'm still convinced that it's there - I just couldn't find it.

I cooked a traditional Christmas dinner, invited a friend over, and watched some Christmas specials. It was perfect like the morning after the last Pancake and Pajama night. The one with Rebecca still in Georgia. A group had spent the night and studied for a math exam. I was more than ready, and managed to sleep at least 6 hours while everyone else crammed. I was the only one to pass the exam. In the morning, Rebecca made us all pancakes before she went into work. She made a Mickey mouse pancake for Jonathan. It was perfect like Christmas dinner in March.

It feels a little bit as though so many things are broken in my life. I banter around the phrase "in my broken Ukrainian" to describe all of my conversations; this as though at one point I had spoken Ukrainian quiet lovely and fluently and then one day a neighborhood kid hit a baseball through it and suddenly it was broken.

We need a better word:

Flailing?
Stuttered?
Slovenly?

Because it's not that things are broken. It's that things are flailing about in a slovenly fashion. I stutter over the remains of self confidence and stop-gap at memories.

I can't mention baseball without remembering the time that Jonathan was staying at my house and the tree branch fell on my neighbor's roof. It made a tremendous noise, and sounded like someone had broken down the door. By the time I sat up and reached under my bed for the baseball bat, Jonathan was already out on the porch in - with my baseball bat in hand, in nothing but his underwear. It was another of those eccentric moments that made my gossipy neighbors overjoyed.

It will take a while to deal with this grief. It will help to go to his graveside, to visit with his family, to talk with our friends about him. But, this too shall pass. I'll move past mandating holidays and word-association games. Eventually I'll get to the point were things are back to normal. I'll forgive easily and I'll love easily, again.

It might take a few more random holidays. Who's up for Halloween in two weeks? Really.