Christmas

Chapter Five : All I Could Do Was Cry

Christmas
All I Could Do Was Cry
_____________________

Gratitude. Appreciation. Thankfulness. Giving thanks. No matter what words you use, it all means the same thing; happiness.

Happiness.

We're all supposed to be happy.

Happiness.

We're all supposed to find that special someone who can make us happy.

Happiness.

We're all supposed to be grateful for friends, family, to be surrounded by people that brings out the best in us or simply be happy to just be alive, whether we like it or not.

Happiness.

But maybe we're not supposed to be happy. Maybe the concept of gratitude has nothing to do with joy and ever happiness. Maybe being grateful means recognising what we have for what it is.

Appreciating small victories.

Admiring the struggles it takes to simply be human.

Praising the fact that we're healthy, that our hearts are pumping, that we're breathing.

Maybe we're thankful for the familiar things we know and come to grow accustom to. And maybe we're thankful for all the things we'll never ever know.

The colour of his eyes.

Will it be blue?

His first word.

Will it be mama or dada?

His favourite colour, cartoon, and toy.

At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate.

Brown eyes met his blues. Jay couldn't think. He's so very tired of thinking, thinking about his wife, thinking about the son they had. All he did for the past four years was think. He's tired. No, he's not tired. He's sad. He's very sad and he's very tired of that. It's the same soul sucking darkness and sullen sky, that has now become his life, he wakes up to all the damn time.

He's exhausted.

He loves his son so much, unconditionally. He misses him. It's been four years since he had touched his translucent skin or stroked his tiny tiny feet. He would give up everything and anything to have him back. In a heartbeat.

But he should've known that life has it's own sickening plans.

Today was actually the first time in four years that he had talked about their son - it's a painful memory - that he had acknowledged the fact after some time of make belief. No one had ever asked and he definitely wasn't one to advertise.

What can he say other than there's a reason why he don't ever speak of him.

It's all just so overwhelming, emotions after emotions toppled on top of another.