Some of our decorations never made it out of the box, nevermind out of the closet
Some of our Christmas cards are in a pile still unopened 
Some of our cards still haven’t been sent

Some of us can only think about who isn’t here
Some of us won’t be having that first Christmas together
Some of us are returning wrapped gifts we’ll never get to give

For some of us, it’s the first Christmas we can’t pretend to have a happy family
Some of us just miss pretending

Some of us are dreading being alone
Some of us are tired of rushing from one place to another
Some of us can’t wait to be back home, alone, with nothing to do

Some of us hate the empty space on the roads from everyone else with some place to be
Some of us are overwhelmed with messages of love, and it’s too much to take in
Some of us are grieving a Christmas birthday that’s only an afterthought, if that

For some of us, Christmas without our big goofy pup just isn’t the same
For some of us, all we can hear is the silence from the cats who aren’t there to swat the tree

Some of us are grieving our parents
Some of us still have our parents, but don’t know for how much longer
Some of us are those parents, just hoping to make it through one more holiday. Maybe it’ll help the little ones remember us

Some of us won’t get to see our kids. But maybe we’ll hear from them
Will they call, or should we call? But shouldn't it be them that calls? But what if we won’t hear their voice unless we call? But what if we’re just bothering them? 

Maybe it doesn’t matter to them. 
Maybe it doesn’t matter to us.
Maybe that’s what we tell ourselves.

I mean, it’s just another day, right? 

For some of us, it’s the first Christmas without our wives, and now we’re supposed to make new traditions. But what if we don’t want to make new traditions?
Some of us are the wives of a cancer patient, told he’d be lucky to make it to Christmas. But even with him here on Christmas, we still don’t feel that lucky. 

Some of us are just holding it together for the kids. 
Some of us thought last Christmas would be the last year with just the two of us. But for some of us, there’s an unbearable heaviness of it still just being the two of us. 
Some of us it's the first Christmas without a brother. And it still doesn't feel real. Because no one told us the last one would be the last one. 

Joy and merry and falling apart.

Is this Christmas now?