If only in my dreams

I'm dreaming tonight of a place that I love
Even more than I usually do
And although I know it's a long road back
I promise you
I'll be home for Christmas,
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents on the tree
Christmas eve will find me,
Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
Listen to Josh Groban sing I'll Be Home for Christmas!

I know I'm not in a war zone. I know I have a place to go for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. But it doesn't replace the ache that lives in my heart. It doesn't replace the loneliness. And I miss the Christmases of my childhood which will never exist again, because both my grandparents are dead. Mawmaw will have been gone one year come Thursday, Paw's been gone for five years now. Christmas just hasn't been the same since Christmas 2005 - my first one without a father and my last one with my Paw.

I don't remember many Christmases before the divorce. They split the summer between first and second grade. I remember getting my tape (as in cassette, yo. Old skool!) deck for a present one year and headphones with it, only to discover it had a microphone jack, not a tape deck.

After the split, it was pretty simple. I'd spend Christmas Eve with my father, then he'd drop me off at the grandparent's for Christmas day, and then I'd go to my mom's for the evening. Some may call it chaotic, but it was what I was used to and all I really knew. And there'd be fun stocking stuffers and good food and presents and FAMILY. But all that is but a distant memory. I don't have it anymore.

I spent Christmas 2006 and New Years 2007 in the Psych Ward. To put it simply, it sucked. Don't ask me what happened on Christmas 2007. I think we went to Maw's after everyone else had left and spent the rest of the day in the new apartment. '08, '09, and '10 I've spent with friends, and will again for '11. Don't get me wrong - I am blessed and grateful to have friends who open up their hearts and home and treat me as one of the family. It's a blessing beyond measure.

But it doesn't heal the ache.
And I'm still homesick for something that doesn't even exist anymore, and I'm not sure every truly did exist.