"I'll be home for Christmas ... you can count on me..." The first line of the familiar tune wasn't even finished and the tears had sprung, unbidden. I reached over and pushed the skip button.
I just can't. Not today.
After years of pining to have a Christmas in America with family, we were finally here and able to do just that. So why was it still so hard?
Maybe it was to do with the fact that we were in the middle of major life upheaval and had no real "home" to call our own.
Maybe it was to do with the fact that I was tired and worn before the Christmas season had even begun.
I think, rather, it was more to do with the fact that my beloved father-in-law wasn't here to celebrate with us. He passed a year ago, right before Christmas day, and this is the first year we are doing this all without his booming voice and infectious laughter rattling through the house.
Maybe for you the source of hurt is different. Maybe you just got a phone call from the doctor with the diagnosis -- and it's the one you feared.
Maybe the layoffs came at exactly the wrong time.