This is the time of year for hustling and bustling about, planning and attending holiday parties, Christmas shopping, traveling, and seeing friends and family. A time for giving to one another. A time for togetherness. (These should be year-round, but people are people, and we have stuff to do.)

For me, this is the time when those intensely sad feelings bubble to the surface. Those haunting memories come to the foreground. They’re there, in the crowd of other memories, jumping up and down and waving hysterically, begging to be noticed, but not like a best friend who can’t wait to be reunited with you and give you a big hug, then excitedly rambling on about all the things that have happened since your last meeting, and then swearing to not let so much time pass between get-togethers, and maybe next time we should do a cruise. These memories, if given attention, seem to want to swallow me whole and keep me in a dark pit.

The memories and images of two years ago can’t be ignored. I try not to dwell on them because they’re still so painful. I try to change focus to the kids, the boyfriend, work, and house repairs. I go to the gym (since I’m a wuss and won’t ride my bike in temps below 60). I’m doing okay. This is just a difficult time of year. Every year. It’s harder to choose happy. It’s harder to get out of bed. It’s harder to keep the tears at bay.

Still, I get out of bed. I do my damnedest to choose happy. I’m not stifling the tears today and am thankful for the release that comes with shedding them.