I hate the holidays, it makes me think of years past, the good and the bad; sometimes of life, but mostly of loss. I know that I am not alone, though I feel lonely, but there are holes in my heart that used to be filled with warmth and love. I have memories, but even if they are happy, they are cold.

Memories are beating me down, and hitting me while I'm weak. But the tears and the pain inside won't just be poured out. They insist on being like the sea and flowing in and out on high and low tides. Just as one pulls back and leaves me weak, the next one comes and crashes above my head. There are some many that are gone, both dead and alive. Each name is another wave; I wish that my memory wasn't so long and exact.