Really Not A HOLIDAY

When the clock strikes midnight tonight, I hope to be sleeping, it's not a joyous holiday for me. At 10:15pm I will be staring at the clock and remember in full detail, nine years ago when I received the call from my mom that my father had just passed away in the hospital. I was sitting on our bed, my legs crossed and was crying, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe. My children were little then, my son was ten and he burst into tears just looking at my face and screaming "no, no, no" and rushed into my arms for a hug. My daughter was even younger, she was eight and I'm not sure she understood what was happening or if she did, she couldn't handle her emotions. To this day, she keeps her emotions inside of her.
My husband gathered me in his arms and just let me sob. Years ago, my son told me that he thought I would sob like that forever. That's what it felt like to him, it must have been very scary, for that I am so sorry.
I don't think I slept that night or for many nights thereafter. If I did finally fall asleep it would be for two hours at a time and I would wake up with a start and that horrible feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Then, I would remember and start crying again.
We go out for an early dinner generally, my husband and I. Tonight we are going to my favorite restaurant "The Flying Pig" (see post) that is also closing tonight. My son will join us for dinner and leave and my daughter may be hostessing tonight. It all seems like an appropriate ending to the night, when my father died, nine years ago.
If I can't sleep at midnight, I hope to be lying next to my husband, with his arm around me until I get tired enough that I will eventually fall into an exhausted sleep. Tomorrow will not be better either, my parents' wedding anniversary is January 1st. I think, we will all cry together, alone.