Thanks to the love (and distraction) of family on both sides, we made it through Christmas with minimal tear-shed. It wasn't easy, by any stretch of the imagination -- but we made it.
Yesterday morning we brought a poinsettia to Scarlett's grave. We picked a poinsettia in a sparkly red tin bucket that we knew she would have loved. Tromping through the snow, we stood at our daughter's headstone, told her how much we missed her and wished her a merry Christmas. We also promised her we'd give her cousins extra hugs, which we promptly did at Jeremy's parents' house.
We unwrapped presents pretty soon after we got there. Jeremy's favorite part of Christmas is watching the kids open their gifts. Even if we lived across the world, I think he'd insist we fly to Colorado Springs each Christmas to witness those kids' faces light up.
I'm glad Jeremy is so confident driving in the snow, because the drive yesterday to and from the Springs was really nasty.
It's been a quiet morning here at home today. Jeremy is still sleeping. I watched a sermon online from Craig Groeschel while I drank my coffee, and I'll probably log a few hours at work later today. I also have to figure out the design for a new painting I promised to a friend.
A friend contacted me last week to ask if I would do a painting for her. She lost one of her best friends, and the godmother of her daughter, in the CT shooting. She wants to send the painting to the grieving family. If there was ever a time for me to shake off my own sadness and create some art, it's now, for this.