Depression hits hard at Christmas. A family holiday reflects its state, and mine has suffered loss. My grandmother passed just after Christmas. Her final words to me were "Don't leave me." I told her we'd be back. I hadn't meant for her funeral.

After seventeen years, my uncle now celebrates without his son, who felt the weight of the world too strongly. During tougher younger years, he was more of a brother than a cousin. Given his silent depression, I understand our bond better now.

I wipe up my morning tears and brave the day. Live for those who can't.

***

Thank you for your patience and for reading. Drabbles like these always make me pause a bit before posting. 

I owe you more thanks, with your support the story has flown over 10,000 reads! I'll keep writing if you keep reading :) (well I'll likely be writing either way whenever I'm able to find power for the laptop, just can't help it).