Writing my tragedy

I've been listening to a song by Frou Frou (who I have no clue who he/she/it is, but heard off a sound track). There is a line or two that says the following:

Leave your things behind 'Cause it's all going off without you Excuse me too busy you're writing your tragedy These mishaps You bubble-wrap When you've no idea what you're like

This evening four years ago I was possibly struggling as much as I ever hope I have to. Christmas day is now a strange day for me. An aniversary of leaving, of goodbyes, of memories. We were at a Christmas eve service less than an hour ago now and I was thinking how each year it does get easier and was wondering if I could or should conjure up - or even just think about that stuff. No it's not the point of Christmas, but its a very big part of my life - was and is. I had decided it would quite foolish to intentionally going about feeling sad, simply for the sake of a memory. So I sat as I was, oddly indifferent to it all. I don't know what tomorrow will be like for me. I can't deny I'm not feeling a sense of loss now. No doubt it will occupy part of my time tomorrow and it'll hurt like crazy in the way that certain memories strangely do. Each year changes things. I can only be thankful, I am not completely in the same situation of the man I sold a 'dealing with grieving' book to the other day. No one should have to go through that, particularly in the over marketed 'joy' at Christmas. Mine is a different kind of loss, it doesn't quite match death. God gave. Maybe I should think about the giving and not the taking.