I wrote this poem the first Christmas after losing Mr. Virgo. It had been just a little over nine months since his sudden death. I was broken in a million pieces. I asked my daughter the other day where I spent that Christmas and she said it was with her. I have no memory of that. I remember sitting with Santa in early December and asking him for a new heart. I remember I put up my tree and it took every bit of strength I had. I remember mattress surfing for a couple of days afterward. That's about it.

Mr. Virgo was from South Philly. We never got the chance to go there together so he could show me his old stomping ground, but he had plenty of great stories about the places of his youth. He was raised in an era when kids were out on the streets from sun up to sun down and all the moms looked out for all the kids. There was always a mom within butt-swatting range. I wasn't allowed to go across Grand Central Avenue...a two lane boulevard with a wide, tree-lined median that my mother somehow likened to a major super highway. Mr. Virgo's mom handed him train fare and sent him into New York City by himself for doctor's appointments when he was 12! Big difference in parenting there.

It's me...Ginny. Remember? I saw you two years ago. I was so broken. I sat with you and asked you for a new heart. You draped your arm across my shoulder and told me you were so sorry for my loss. You sat there patting my shoulder so patiently as I sobbed. You have no idea how much you helped me get through that first Christmas season without Mr. Virgo. I'll be forever grateful to you.

Grief shatters us. It breaks us into a million pieces...shards of mirrors on the ground reflecting our once beautiful lives as fragments of memories and pain. A mirror can never be made completely whole again without evidence of fractures. We'll always have evidence of our loss. Maybe not visible on the outside, maybe not evident to others, but WE know. We feel every crack, every missing piece of our heart and soul no matter how well put together we become.

My older daughter has two children. They have school, swim practice, riding lessons, and homework. They are always running from activity to activity. Her mother-in-law and I were talking about this the other day and how different parenting is now. There's hardly an hour of down time anymore. I got to thinking about that. I can tell you exactly why that is and, it's not really much different after all.

Mr. Virgo loved Christmas. He listened all year and actually made notes about things he saw that I liked or was interested in. He bought and carefully hid gifts for weeks before Christmas. He wanted every Christmas to be special.

As you know, I've downsized tremendously and I don't need anything, really. I'd rather have experiences than things at this point. But still, wandering around the mall yesterday, listening to the carols, watching the hustle and bustle of the shoppers...made me nostalgic for my man. I wandered around for a couple of hours feeling material, smelling perfumes, looking at sparkly things. As I turned to make my way back through the mall to head home, I passed Chico's. I love that store.

I am developing a love for photography. And, I've always been a techno-geek and love the cool new apps that can manipulate your photographs turning them into faux paintings. This is a picture I took a couple of years ago at the Ute Museum near Durango, CO. I used an app called Waterlogue and turned it into a "painting". I would never try to pass my work off as real paintings out of respect for artists. I know the blood, sweat and tears that go into works of art. At the same time, in order to have the photo to manipulate, one must have some photographic skills so I'll accept that. I'm always looking for something new to accompany my posts, so this seems to be another creative outlet for me as it appeals on so many levels. I've been thinking about making note cards and holiday cards and selling them on my Etsy page. Maybe next year.

With Christmas just over a week away, those of us grieving a loss may find some significant potholes on the road ahead. The more recent the loss, the deeper they are likely to be. But it doesn't mean we're out of the woods just because a significant amount of time has passed. Everyone experiences grief differently, but feeling a loss more intensely during significant events like birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays seems to be a common denominator amongst those who are grieving.

I am so blessed. I have the love of family and friends. I have a tiny home on wheels that's paid for. I have a reliable vehicle. I have skills and the abilities I need to support myself. I have a sense of adventure. I have a God that loves me and will see me through anything. And, I have the love of a wonderful man that I can feel every day...all the way from heaven.

I woke up yesterday morning to the sounds of my grandchildren. Is there anything better than that? I've missed them terribly and they've grown so much! As a matter of fact, they're past the age of squealing my name and running into my arms and that broke my heart a little bit. It's my own fault. It's the down side of being away on this adventure of healing, self-discovery, and personal growth. They'll come around once we spend more time together. We have cookies to bake. We have places to go, things to do. There are snowmen to be built and hills to sled down. And, of course, shopping for shoes! We'll be making memories, that's for sure.