Christmas Inflatables

a journal entry about grief

Every Christmas, growing up from the age of 2 to 11, my front yard was always covered with an insane amount of decorations. My papaw was very joyful around this time of the year and always put in a whole bunch of effort to make sure me and my siblings and I could feel the Christmas spirit. He knew our mother always tried to take it away from us. Hell, I don’t even know if I would have even had Christmas as a child if he didn’t live with us.

I used to get annoyed by it sometimes as I grew older. I see the constant wires as an extra thing I had to fight past before I could get to my room and play my nintendo ds. I would forget about the memories I had of my papaw chasing little me around in the snow and me tripping on one of those same wires while giggling to the point I almost peed myself.

I can still visit the house if I want. My uncle lives there now. I try my hardest to avoid it at Christmas time, feeling like all the joy that used to be there has completely vanished.

The house doesn’t get decorated anymore. My mom doesn’t even have a tree in her house. It will always feel like that when he died, Christmas also died with him.