It’s the smell of food being made.
The lights on the decorated trees.
All, reminders of a life. That is no longer ours.
The ghost life.
On days such as today, we get thrown into a life that no longer exists for us,
but we are forced to see it on others.
People who have not experienced tragedy can’t possibly know that when they invite us to their beautifully decorated homes with the 5 course meal on the perfect table set, they might as well be scratching our wounds.
I know, it’s harsh to say this.
I know, I know.
And yes, they mean well.
They want to give us their world so we can feel better.
But they might as well be eating their five course meal in front of a homeless man.
Parading their luxury cars in front of people waiting for the bus.
Need I go on?
You may ask, then what?
What can anyone do for someone who has lost their whole world?
For the grieving soul.
They should have pajama parties in front of the tv for us instead.
No meals planned.
No home cooked pies.
Gifts given without wrapping papers around them.
We are alive but not fully living.
Anchored on the edge of life.
When life becomes vibrant around us, we may lose our grip and fall back into the abyss.
This is why it should be a slow save.
A gentle hand helping us up.
The getting back should be a quiet song.
Life can never get us back by reminding us of all the things we miss.
It must slowly light the way with some popcorn, a new set of bed sheets and maybe a good glass of wine.
Anything else, would be trying way too hard.
P.S. And if you find time to listen to a podcast or two I hope my guests and I can keep you company while you are in your pjs. www.dearlifepodcast.com
PPS. And if you know anyone who wants to subscribe to receive my letters weekly send them here: www.christinarasmussen.com/miab