H for HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

To my lovely, amazing, wonderful readers:

I wish you a very HAPPY NEW YEAR!! Thank you so much for the support, encouragement, laughs, and wisdom you've shared with me over the past year. I never would've imagined when I started this blog how many truly awesome and amazing people I would "meet." I didn't anticipate the many friendships I'd form with people I've never actually met in person. This has been an amazing experience, thanks to you, and I struggle to find the words to adequately express both the appreciation and amazement I feel over the fact that many of you consistently come here to read what I have to say and to share your thoughts with me.

One of my goals for next year is to post at least a few times a week in order to maintain my contact with you all and to further grow the friendships that have formed. Of course, I did get a Kindle for Christmas, and classes start up againg January 10, so there's going to be even more competition for my time; but, blogging is a big priority for me.

I will be working on a post over the weekend to tell you all about the wonderful Christmas MusicMan and I had. I'm also working on a post to share my thoughts on the memorial bonfire we had for my sister. Please come back soon to see those!! For now, I leave you with a recap of 2010:

 January started out bumpy with a trip to the emergency room. Things didn't improve, because a few weeks later, I had car troubles. The end of the month started to show improvement when I bought a new car.

Feburary found me feeling nostalgic, receiving my first blogging awards, and celebrating a couple birthdays.

In March, I tried my hand at being an economist, examined the differences between my younger classmates and I, and was a little overwhelmed with how busy life had gotten.

The overwhelming busyness continued in April. I pondered life and death and was excited to receive more blog awards.

In May I shared some information about my family and the constant frustration they cause. I started my Wayback Wednesday sereis to tell you all about how MusicMan and I met, and I also celebrated my 32nd birthday.

The Summer of Hell started in June. In one of the few blog posts I had time for, I talked about choices people make.

I was quite busy in July, due to the Summer of Hell, and ended up feeling really burnt out.

In August, I shared the story of how MusicMan proposed in anticipation of celebrating our two year wedding anniversary.

I introduced you to mud volleyball in September, and opened my heart to tell you about a day I didn't think I'd ever get through. I rounded out the month by sharing an embarrassing secret.

I suffered from writer's block in October and only posted a quick update and shared my thoughts on the power of words.

In November, I risked alienating some readers by writing about some of my strongly held beliefs.

The power of forgiveness was on my mind in December. We also had an unwelcome visitor to contend with.

It's been an incredibly busy year, lovely reader, but I've also made a lot of progress towards completing my degree. I look forward to chatting with you again in the New Year. Whatever you decide to do to welcome in 2011, I hope you have fun and stay safe!!

A for Absolute Madness!

Let the madness begin!!!

This past weekend, MusicMan and I both got the obligatory Christmas plan emails from our moms. Even though both of them should know the routine by now, because MusicMan and I have been married for a little over two years and celebrating holidays together for about four years, our mothers like to be coy. We spend Christmas Eve with MusicMan’s family and Christmas Day with mine.

My crazy mother, who you’ll remember is sick and thus supposed to be taking it easy, decided that we’d do brunch on Christmas Day at around noon. And, just in case people stick around long enough to get hungry again, she’ll have lasagna ready to go in the oven later on in the day. The email she sent to my sister and me indicated that we should invite our in-laws. (Well, my sister isn’t technically married, and it’s hard to keep track of whether or not she and the doofus who fathered her children are together or not at any given moment, but whatever.) The more the merrier, right?!

WRONG! My MIL (Mother-In-Law), though I love her to pieces, and my mom are way too much alike, which means they don’t necessarily get along very well. This is understandable, because it’s hard enough to give one drama queen enough attention (Is there ever enough attention for an attention-whore?!), so you can imagine how hard it is to muster up enough attention for two. MIL most likely won’t join us; nor will my father-in-law, but there’s always a chance (however slight that chance may be).

How my mom thinks we’re going to cram four extra people into her tiny house that barely accommodates the “normal” crowd is completely beyond me. Also, she’s supposed to be taking it easy, but she won’t be if my and my sister’s in-laws join us, because then she’ll have to play the hostess with the mostest to prove just how incredible she really is; especially in the face of adversity. (She is still incredibly sick. We find out Thursday if they're going to hospitalize her for a bit or not, because she's retaining so much fluid that she can now no longer bend her legs and her skin is starting to show signs of being stretched to the max. There is also fluid in her lungs—likely because it has nowhere else to go.)

I, being the loving and helpful daughter that I am, asked my mother to let me know what I could bring to Christmas. I was really hoping the answer wasn’t going to be fruit salad. That’s the standard item usually assigned to me for all holidays. I’m assuming that’s because my family knows I’m not much for cooking. I am capable of more than fruit salad, and MusicMan is quite a good cook, but still I get stuck with the fruit salad.

Photo Courtesy (My family prefers it sans nuts. Doesn't that just look like a culinary delight?!)

I hate the fruit salad!! I don’t even eat it—practically no one does (except mom’s husband and his son)—yet I have to prepare it every holiday. It’s not particularly hard to do, which is why I get the task:

Take a large can of that gross, syrupy fruit cocktail, drain it, pour it in a large bowl

Add three or four sliced Bananas and a can of Mandarin Orange slices (drained) to bowl (I usually forget this part.)

Add one bag of those pastel colored fruity mini marshmallows to bowl

Add large container of Cool Whip to bowl

(Don’t use real whipping cream, because that will totally mess it up. The “salad” needs to taste as overly sweet as is humanly possible without it being actual candy. The irony of the healthy image projected by the name—fruit salad—is the secret ingredient to this not at all healthy “fruit salad.” So, it’s very important to use Cool Whip.)

Stir.

That’s it. See? Not very hard at all. The hardest part about it is making sure most all of the syrup from the fruit cocktail is drained so that, once it’s mixed with the cool whip, it’s nice and smooth instead of a congealed mess. Oh, and remembering the bananas and oranges; I seem to always forget those for some reason, and the lack of bananas totally ruins my mom’s husband’s life. I think I’ve totally ruined his life like three times now. Also, trying not to slit my finger open on the jagged, sharp metal edge of the fruit cocktail can seems to be an ever-present challenge.

(Don’t want a repeat of the Thanksgiving of 2007 when half the fruit salad—i.e. all of the bananas and some of the marshmallows—ended up in the trash because they were covered in my blood. Maybe preparing fruit salad is harder than I thought.)

I learned too late to be careful what I wish for. My mom responded to my offer saying that she’d love for me to bring my French Toast Bake,* a “bunch” of cooked sausage and bacon that we can heat up in the oven, and maybe some fruit salad. (SERIOUSLY?!)

(*Which I introduced at Easter last year, just to show that I’m capable of more than fruit salad, and it would’ve been great with other brunch foods, but someone forgot to tell me that the menu had been switched from brunch to lunch, and French toast doesn’t go so well with ham, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes and gravy, various vegetables and other savory items, and then I vowed never to bring anything to a family holiday meal ever again. Ever! But, you can see how well that worked out. Sometimes, but very rarely, I might have just a tinge of my mom’s drama queen genes.)

I will, of course, obediently bring the foods I was assigned. Except the fruit salad! I am taking a stand. This will be a fruit salad-less Christmas, because I am going to conveniently forget to make it and bring it. Thus single-handedly destroying the holiday for my mom’s husband, I’m sure, but hopefully he’ll find a way to pull through and survive; he’s a fighter. (No, he's not.) Too bad. Important causes, like this one, sometimes have casualties.

Now, I’m just wondering how I’m going to get everything done. You see, my mom seems to have forgotten that I’ve already offered to make and bring five types of cookies, a few dozen cake balls, and some fudge. And, while she is off of work and can make one of each of her five types of cookies per day on the week leading up to Christmas and get done in plenty of time, I don’t have that luxury. I can’t even start baking until next weekend.

This coming weekend I have to study for my Algebra final. Next weekend is, of course, the memorial bonfire for my sister. The Friday night before, I have to prepare the food I plan to bring to the bonfire. This means I’m stuck baking five types of cookies (and hopefully cake balls and fudge), at least four dozen of each kind so there are plenty to go around, on the Saturday night after the bonfire and that Sunday. I work the following week, and that next weekend is Christmas already, so truly next weekend is the only time I’ll have!!

My mother also seems to have neglected the fact that I work on Christmas Eve day, because my company is apparently run by Ebenezer Scrooge and is too cheap to give us the day off. Granted we only have to work a half day, but still; it's inconvenient and kinda sucks. A lot. So, instead of unwinding for a bit between getting home from work and going to my in-laws’, I’ll have to prepare the French Toast Bake that needs to sit in the refrigerator overnight so that the bread can soak up all of the custardy goodness. (And I can hopefully prove to my family, once and for all, that I'm capable of culinary delights beyond fruit salad.)

Photo via

I’m tired just thinking of doing all of this, but I have to find the energy to actually do all of it now! And, I feel like I’m coming down with something, but I’m not even going to think about being sick because I just don’t have the time for it. Mind over matter!

If you don’t hear for me for a while, lovely reader, it’s likely because I’ve been overcome by cookie dough. You’ll probably find me, rocking back and forth in the fetal position, under a mound of Snickerdoodle, Peanut Butter, and Oatmeal cookie dough. Don’t approach too quickly; you don’t want to startle me and end up getting pelted with cake balls!!! :-)

P for Passages of Time

It is amazing how quickly time manages to fly by; isn’t it, lovely reader? Life has been hectic lately. Like don’t remember what day of the week, let alone what month, it is kind of hectic. Psychology class is over, and Algebra wraps up in a couple weeks, which means I’ll soon be on a lovely three week winter break! Wooohooo! I’m looking forward to having some downtime, catching up on my blog reading (I have a lot of catching up to do), and enjoying some time with friends and family. In addition to the busyness of school, work, and life in general, there has been some pretty major family drama too. I just don’t have the energy to get into it right now, so I’ll summarize as best I can…

My mother, who had weight loss surgery over three years ago, is incredibly ill. Like the possibility of dying exists kind of sick. While she insists that this illness has nothing to do with her surgery, it’s hard to deny that it makes recovery more difficult. It’s also hard to ignore that she’s been ill, in one way or another and to one degree or another, since she’s had the surgery. But, whatever.

She’s severely malnourished; her body does not retain any nutrients, or calories, or apparently anything from the food she eats. She’s gained 30 pounds of water weight alone. Apparently there's a possibility that she might have thyroid cancer, but the tests haven’t come back yet. She just started 24/7 IV nutrition therapy in the hopes that they can get her nutrition levels up enough to figure out what exactly is wrong with her, and then hopefully fix whatever it is. To top it off, she and her husband continue to barely scrape by financially. I have loaned given them more money than I care to think about or admit. And there’s no sign that any of that will get better anytime soon. It could, in fact, get worse, because there is a very real possibility that my mom will lose her medical insurance as a result of having to take 3-6 weeks of leave from work in order to try to get better.

It has become a very real possibility that MusicMan and I will need to take custody of my nephew, Li’l D, a lot earlier than we thought we would. We’re as ready as we can be for this, and of course, we want what’s best for Li’l D. Unfortunately, my mother remains stubbornly resistant to the idea. It’s getting to the point where I’m going to have to tell her that, if I’m going to financially support Li’l D any longer (because that’s really the only reason I have given her so much money), then he’s going to live with me. That’s not going to sit well at all. She might sever ties with me, and as a result sever our access to Li’l D. In which case, I will be forced to drag the whole thing into court, because I want what’s best for my nephew. But for now, we wait. And hope…

That things will get better. That my mom will heal and survive. That Li’l D living in such a stressful environment won’t affect him detrimentally for the rest of his life. That mom will come to her senses and do what’s best for Li’l D. That MusicMan and I will be able to handle suddenly becoming “parents” to an almost five-year-old basically overnight. That life will just quit being difficult for a while.

Speaking of difficult, I mentioned at this time last year that I hate this time of year. I gave a few reasons; the biggest of which, is that the anniversary of my youngest sister’s death is in December. It’s amazing the difference a year makes, lovely reader…

December 19 will mark three years that my sister has been gone. I’ve been so focused on finishing up the semester at school, getting ready for the holidays, and excitedly anticipating the bonfire we’ll have (on December 18) to celebrate her life that I momentarily forgot the significance of the date. My cousinfriend made a comment in a conversation we had recently about the date, December 19, being a hard day for my other sister and my twin brother (this is what my mother told my cousin, anyway). I seriously had to think for a few moments about why that would be. Imagine my shock and horror when I realized that the significance of the date is that it is the day, almost three years ago, that my sister was robbed of her life. Time flies.

This, of course, caused me to think about how far I’ve come in that time. I don’t cry nearly as much as I used to. I no longer fear the question, “How many siblings do you have?” and can talk about Kristine’s death without feeling anxious or having a panic attack set it. These are really good changes. Yes, I’ve come a long way since December 19, 2007.

When I first noticed that I hadn’t “lost it” in a good long while, I felt so guilty. How could I not be crying over my dead sister? What was wrong with me?! Then I realized that there was nothing to feel guilty over. Not crying regularly doesn’t in any way diminish the feelings I have for my sister or the profound sense of loss that will always exist as a result of her absence from my life. I love her beyond words. I am thankful that I got to spend the time with her that I did. And, I will never, ever, ever forget her.
I can't cry forever, and crying really truly doesn’t make me feel better about anything. Nor will it change anything. Don’t get me wrong, when those moments of extreme, gut-wrenching anguish hit, I give in to them. I cry my heart out until I just can’t cry anymore. But those moments don’t happen nearly as often anymore, and for that, I am incredibly thankful. The fact that I don’t cry as often anymore means that I’m not in pain as often, and that’s a good thing. It means I am moving forward.

I still think of Kristine every single day—at least once a day, but usually quite a bit more. I miss her more than words can even describe. Of course, I want her here. I want to hear her laugh, I want one of her amazing hugs, and I want to be enveloped in the light—the spirit—that was her. I want my nephew to have his mommy; to know what an amazing mother she was instead of having to hear about it as he grows older. These feelings never go away. My heart physically aches at times over all that she’s missed out on, and will miss out on, and over just how much I miss her and long for her to be here. But, I’ve realized that just isn’t possible. She’s not coming back. Ever. That is a cold, hard, unchanging fact of life.

The grief and healing process is a weird, horrible, confusing, multi-faceted, terrible, amazing thing. I’m proud of how far I’ve come, but at the same time, I know I will be healing for the rest of my life. A big part of that healing lies in forgiveness. I swore I would never, ever forgive Kristine’s murderer, Zachery, for as long as I lived. Like most people, I confused forgiveness with forgetting. Just as I will never forget my sister, I will never forget what Zachery did. I will always, always remember that he hit her so hard that he knocked her out, made a ligature out of a shoelace, and used all of the force he could muster to squeeze the life out of her for no less than two minutes.

But, I’ve forgiven Zachery. I really mean that. Those words—I forgive—come from deep down, the bottom of my heart.

I. Forgive. Him.

Of course, that forgiveness is more for me than it is for him. It means nothing to him; it would mean nothing to him even if he knew. It doesn’t mean that I’m in any way okay with what he did. It doesn’t mean that I don’t miss Kristine. It doesn’t mean that I love her any less. It certainly doesn’t diminish the tragedy of what happened. No.

What it does mean is: I’m done with him. Forever. He’s not worth the time or effort I was spending on hating him, being angry over him, or wondering why he did what he did. There’s just no room for that in my head or heart anymore. I’m taking back the power he, or at least what he did, had over me. He did what he did, and he’s being punished appropriately for it. Just as we have to deal with our loss for the rest of our lives, he has to deal with what he did for the rest of his, and that’s good enough for me. I’m done.

I think I needed to forgive him in order to move on with my life, and I really truly have. I feel lighter...cleaner...just plain better. My realization the other day—that I had sort of “forgotten” the significance of the date—makes me realize that I have chosen to honor my sister’s memory not by focusing on her death, but by celebrating her life.

I’m choosing the good memories over the bad. This was her most favorite time of year—the festive feel of the whole season and the buildup to one of her most favorite holidays. Since she can’t be here to enjoy it, I owe it to her to at least appreciate that I can be. This year I’ll do one better. I will joyously anticipate and celebrate Christmas like she would have. In her honor. Because I can’t think of a better way to honor her. Besides, she wouldn’t want me crying all the time. That was so not her style.

N for New Year's

I used to love celebrating New Year’s Eve. It was my holiday; I was the one who always threw the party. The New Year’s after my husband and I started dating, so the one in which we would welcome 2007, I had prepared to throw my annual shindig. The Minnesota weather had other plans though, and the large amounts of snow that dumped down upon us prevented my prospective guests from traveling to my humble abode. Music Man and I celebrated alone, trying to make a dent in the vast amounts of food I had prepared and watching horribly bad movies on cable. We just barely made it to midnight, staying up just long enough to watch the ball drop on TV and to do the midnight kiss to welcome the new year right. A little over a week later, I finally threw away the remaining party food, because neither Music Man nor I could possibly eat another barbecued weenie. This year would foreshadow the years to come; I didn't know it yet, but my party days had come to an end.

The following year found Music Man and I engaged and freshly grieving the loss of my sister. I was facing a return to work, and thus a return to “normal” life that was anything but, so we were really in no mood to celebrate. The theme of the past few weeks had been family togetherness, and we missed a couple of our good friends, so we decided to have a low-key get together at our home. Our best couple friends, a gay couple whom we affectionately call “the boys,” and my middle (now only) sister and her boyfriend joined us. We munched on snacks I’d prepared, had a few drinks, and tried to control our tears as we reminisced about my sister and how much she loved celebrating anything. Our guests left shortly after the ball dropped, and 2008 began without much fanfare (for us, anyway).

As 2009 approached, we faced a looming move, because our landlord decided that he no longer wanted to rent to pet owners. Now husband and wife, Music Man and I had takeout for dinner, and once again, barely made it to midnight. We trudged up to bed looking forward more to sleep than to the year ahead.

We thought about having a party this year, but none of our potential guests seemed very interested, which ended up working out for the best because Music Man and I are both quite sick with bad colds. Our night will probably go something along the lines of this: we’ll have some kind of takeout for dinner, we’ll play with the dogs a little bit to tire them out, and all four of us will cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie on our Netflix instant queue. We will most likely be in bed before midnight, because we are both totally wiped out from this nasty cold. Hopefully we’ll wake up to 2010 feeling healthier and well rested.

There’s always next year for partying. Maybe next year will be the year we resurrect the New Year’s party, and I reclaim my holiday. We shall see. It’s a long ways away (12 months, 52 weeks, or 365 days), and I cannot speculate on all the things that can and/or will happen between now and then.

I hope that, whatever you decide to do to ring in the year, you have fun and stay safe. Wishing you all the best in 2010!

C for Christmas and Catching-Up

I’m sorry it’s been so long since you’ve heard from me, dear reader. My goal for the new year is to try to blog more regularly. In the event that I am successful with this goal, you’ll likely start seeing the blog deviate from being only about school to being a little bit more about my personal life, which I think will be nice for both of us. For now, I have some catching up to do!

I’ll start with that overwhelming weekend I mentioned in my last blog. I ended up skipping out on Christmas with my dad’s family; I decided I’d much rather get caught up on baking and Christmas shopping. Normally I would feel bad about missing out, but I didn’t this time; I knew my decision would greatly benefit me, and sometimes, you just need to think of yourself first. I figured the extended family would understand, and that if they didn’t, that was their problem. My dad is truly the only one we’d miss, and Music Man and I can get together with him and his wife for dinner sometime after the holiday craziness dies down. I’m really glad we ended up not going, because we got a ton done; almost all of our Christmas shopping was completed, and I got a good jump on my Christmas baking. Since I am not your “typical” woman in that I loathe (not love) shopping, Saturday afternoon was exhausting.

As the evening approached, I started to feel more and more tired. I did not want to go to the bonfire. I wanted to cry myself to sleep and then sleep through the whole evening instead. Because the day had been so busy, I’d managed to keep my thoughts and emotions on the anniversary of my sister’s death at bay. I hadn’t thought too much about how very long the past two years seem to have been, and how each anniversary puts me further and further away from the last time I heard her laugh, saw her smile, or felt her wonderful hug.

As I said in my last blog, there was no way I was going to miss the bonfire, so I bucked up and got myself ready to go. As we drove, I started to get excited about the people we would see; I was especially looking forward to seeing my nephews and niece, and it had been awhile since I’d seen my twin brother. When we got there, we headed inside the house to drop off the cups and utensils we’d brought. My deceased sister’s son (also my youngest nephew) saw me and literally flew into my arms. (Well, it was really more like a running leap, but it seemed like he flew.) He was so excited to see me, and he gave me the most wonderful hug. In that moment, he reminded me so much of his mother—the excitement on his face, the hug that conveyed so much love—that I felt as though they both were hugging me. It was truly incredible. He didn’t want to let me go, so I held him for a while and talked to him about his new puppy; feeling as though I was exactly where I needed to be right at that moment.

The bonfire was fantastic. As usual, so many of my sister’s friends, various family friends, and family members showed up that it was overwhelming. There was also one very special guest; one of the jurors from the criminal trial showed up. My mom’s husband and I have communicated back and forth with this young woman via Facebook since right after the trial. It was so incredible to finally meet her in person!!! She was overwhelmed at the hero’s welcome she received, and she told me later that she just about lost it when she saw my nephew. He made it all very real for her, and seeing him made her realize just how important the decision she and her fellow jurors made really truly was. It was an incredible experience to meet and talk to her, and she was eager to hear the stories we had to tell about my sister. It’s incredible how this horrific experience has brought strangers together and made us friends.

Energy renewed after hours of celebration of my sister’s life and memory, we headed home where I proceeded to finish up a little baking. By the end of the weekend, I had completed the following: 5 dozen flourless peanut butter cookies, 9 dozen oatmeal butterscotch cookies, 7 dozen snicker doodles, 5 dozen Oreo truffles, 5 dozen mint Oreo truffles, and 5 dozen cherry cake balls. I still had to do the candy coating on the mint truffles and the cake balls, but holiday baking was nearly complete!

The Christmas celebration with my husband’s grandmother on Sunday went well, and afterwards we finished up the rest of our Christmas shopping. The Christmas holiday as a whole was great. We spent Christmas Eve with my in-laws where we had beef and shrimp fondue for dinner and had cookies, which I’d brought, for dessert. They gifted us a nice check that we’re hoping to use on a steam cleaner; with two dogs and white carpet, it would be a very useful thing to have. (Mark my words: when we buy a house, it will not have white—or even light—carpet.) Christmas day was spent at my mother’s house where we ate lots of good food, lots of good cookies (my mom always makes tons), and enjoyed watching the nephews and niece open the gifts we’d gotten them. Overall, it was a wonderful holiday. The one exception being the Christmas gift my husband and I received from my family: one heck of a nasty cold. We both feel just lousy and are hoping the cold passes quickly.

Music Man and I had decided not to exchange gifts, because the Pug we recently rescued was our gift to each other; however, he decided to play Santa on Christmas Eve. Christmas morning I woke up to a stocking filled with some nice things: an iTunes gift card, gum, candy, gloves, disinfectant hand wipes to carry in my purse (he knows me so well), and a laptop sleeve (which was actually propped up against the stocking, not inside of it). I felt horrible that he’d thought to do such a nice thing for me and that I had done nothing for him. Then I realized that he’d filled his own stocking with a few things he’d wanted/needed like a new CD, and I didn’t feel as bad, because he’d at least gotten himself some things too. Next year I will remember to pick up some things to fill his stocking with. He is always the more thoughtful one when it comes to gift giving where I usually struggle with what to get him; clearly he really pays attention when I say I need/want something, and I need to get better about doing that.

In school news, final grades are in. I am proud to say I continue to hang on to my 4.0 GPA!! My final grade in English was an A, and I got some very nice comments from my instructor. She told me that I am a very talented writer, that she knows I’m going to go far in my career, and that she hopes I continue to write. That’s a great compliment coming from a woman with a PhD in English! My argument paper was on domestic violence, and she told me I’d managed to strike a good balance between factual information and my own personal/emotional story (my sister’s death). She wrote a comment that she hoped I’d keep writing about my sister, because her story should be told and I have the skills and insight to tell it. I was touched. I also passed the Interpersonal Communications Competency!!! I still eagerly await the evaluation form, stalking the mailbox every day in the hopes that the letter grade equivalent will soon be revealed to me.

With that, we’re all caught up! I hope you had a fantastic holiday, dear reader, and with New Years approaching, I wish you a happy and safe New Year!!

O for Overwhelmed

This upcoming weekend, the first weekend of my break from school, is going to be ridiculously busy, and I’m not at all happy about it. I get overwhelmed when too much is going on at once, which is why I just hate this time of year, because it seems like I just can’t keep up no matter what I do. My parents have been divorced since I was five years old, so I’m used to having to split holidays; but other events, including marrying my husband a year and a few months ago, have exacerbated the holiday busyness. This Saturday is my dad’s family’s Christmas party, which is about a 45 minute drive from my house. The party starts at noon or one. Since it’s one of the few times a year that I get to see my dad and his extended family, and it’s important to my dad that I go, I have to go. So, Music Man and I will leave the house at about noon, get there at around one, stay an hour or two, and head home to let the dogs out and to relax for a bit before the evening event.

Saturday evening is a memorial bonfire for my youngest sister. On December 19, 2007, my nineteen year old sister was murdered by her ex-boyfriend. He strangled her to death with a ligature he made out of a shoelace, which we found out during his criminal trial meant that he had to spend at least two minutes squeezing the life out of her, because that’s how long it takes to kill someone by strangulation. Then, he dumped her body in the back seat of her car as though she were a bag of trash, left their nearly two year old son alone in his apartment, and abandoned the car in another city; oh, and for good measure, he set the car on fire. This is probably the biggest reason that I now hate this time of year.

I miss my sister terribly, and every time December 19 rolls around, it’s as though the event is happening all over again. I vividly remember the early morning phone call from my mother on December 20, 2007, and my inability to grasp what she was telling me because it was just too horrible. I remember numbly getting ready to go to my mom’s house, sobbing in the shower and thinking horrible thoughts that I just couldn’t stop: Did she know who killed her? Did she suffer? Did she beg for her life? Are they sure it’s her body? Maybe by the time I get to mom’s house, she’ll be there. Why? Why? WHY?!? I remember stopping at my brother’s house, because it was on the way to my mom’s house and no one had been able to reach him yet. I remember Music Man asking me on the way if I wanted him to talk to my twin brother, and I remember insisting that I had to be the one to tell him. I remember how I could barely speak as I tried to break the news to my brother; the words coming out in nothing more than a hoarse whisper. I remember my brother, Music Man, and I clinging together as we cried; perhaps trying to prevent our bodies from doing what our hearts already were: splitting into a million pieces. Every year, the wound that seems to have barely begun to heal is torn open again, and the only difference is that I don’t have the media in my face this time around (I was the family spokesperson to the media.), and we don’t have to plan a funeral again.

The fact that my sister’s murderer was eventually convicted of first degree murder (and found guilty of domestic violence murder, second degree murder, and tampering with a body) and sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole, doesn’t help me to feel any better. I don’t know that anything ever will, because no one or nothing can tell me why this happened; even if something or someone could, the answer wouldn’t be good enough. I look at my young nephew and just want to cry. He’s almost four now, which means he has been without his mommy for two years; the only way he’ll know her is through pictures and our stories, many of which he’ll hear at the annual bonfire we have in her honor. Needless to say, I cannot—I will not—miss this event. After a couple of hours outside in the snow and cold (this is Minnesota after all) reminiscing about my sister with family and her friends and talking about how much I miss her, I will go home physically and emotionally exhausted. However, the dogs will still need to be cared for and played with, especially after being kenneled almost all day, and I’ll need to try to get some holiday baking done, because I don’t know when else I’ll have the time to do it.

Sunday we are joining my husband’s family at his 93 year old grandma’s nursing home to celebrate Christmas with her. Since this is grandma’s first Christmas in the nursing home, and it will probably be her last Christmas, according to my mother-in-law anyway, we have to go. After a couple hours, we’ll leave to finish our Christmas shopping. Hopefully the shopping crowds won’t be too horrible on a Sunday evening, and we’ll be able to get it done quickly. Once we finally get home, I’ll probably try to finish up more baking, depending on the time of course. When I finally get to bed, I’ll be completely and utterly exhausted and not at all ready to start another week at work, even if it is a short one. I will probably bake every night next week in order to have cookies to bring to my in-laws for Christmas Eve and to my mom's for Christmas day.

As I now read back over what I’ve written, I feel like a total bitch. Christmas was one of my sister’s favorite holidays, and she always loved gatherings. She’d give anything to be here, involved in all the celebrating and busyness. And yet, all I can do is bitch about it. I will try to remember this as the weekend approaches and the crazy schedule begins, and I will try to appreciate that I am alive to experience the absolute exhaustion that will inevitably result from it all.