Two years ago today in the wake of my first (and so for only) NaNoWriMo I sat down at my beloved Mac and began blogging–hoping to share stories and observations–anything other than what Ken and I were facing when his cancer had returned for the second time within a year. Writing had always been my “go to” therapy option, but I could never have imagined that a blog was going to allow me to share pretty much every aspect of my journey with him…and without him. And I’ve treasured every single word of it.

As proud as I am to reach a two-year blogging milestone, it comes on the eve of a holiday tradition I’ve re-invoked–and takes a back seat to it. I decided to have a small Christmas party this year. It was something I considered for a long time. I liked “the idea” of restarting an old tradition, but  felt actually doing so might somehow trample on the old memories. Ken and I used to have one every year. And they were big affairs. Upwards of 20-30 people until the wee hours of the following morning. The last one we threw was December 2009, weeks after learning Ken’s cancer had returned. We pared down the party to keep it intimate, but it was a tradition he wanted to continue–which I supported wholeheartedly.

When I think about all the parties we had, the laughter and friends that filled the same apartment in which I currently live, my heart swells with luscious memories–some of them cutting a little with their sharp, detailed edges and some leave me with a smile. It’s par for the course for the grief journey pro. Sometimes I wonder if my grief isn’t becoming an old, trusted friend who forever ties me to Ken and the richness of the life we shared.

For Ken and me, one of the most special parts of the party was, before anyone arrived, prepping and putting last minute touches on the apartment in eager anticipation of our guests. Even the night before was a mini-event in itself as we moved furniture, considered traffic flows and pondered placements. It was the proverbial calm before a delightful storm. And we relished it as much as we did spending time with friends.

In spite of Ken’s gaping absence it hasn’t been difficult to get into the Christmas spirit this year. The history of Christmas seems to possess a magic that transcends all of life’s woes for me. Plus Ken loved Christmas. And I love that my apartment will be brimming with our friends and their laughter once more.