I Have a Box Full of Memories

The year my husband died, I accepted a friend's invitation to spend Christmas eve with her family. Driving to their home, I started melting down as I thought about previous Christmases and how my husband was always with me. I was in that place of just wanting him so desperately to come back. I was teary eyed, melancholic, thinking how much I missed him and how alone I felt.
 
When I arrived, I saw several cars and realized that there was probably more of her family inside than I was comfortable with, especially in my current sad state. I knocked on the door and got no answer. I could hear happy, festive people inside and I almost bolted, but I thought of my friend. I rang the bell and her dad came to the door and greeted me as I was trying to dry my tears and looked human somehow. The mom greeted me, then my friend and her husband. I was instantly on the verge of tears again, feeling the pain of a missing husband. I looked around and saw some of her extended family whom I really didn't know and I told her that I was going to leave and come back later in the week. Her mom, of course being a mom person, did not accept this, and pushed me to stay. My friend ended up taking me to her bedroom where she tried to comfort me, etc. We chatted for a little bit and I told her that I would really be more comfortable coming back later in the week. I was amazed by her compassion and understanding. She told me to do what I needed to do and not to worry about her mom. We exchanged hugs and "I love you"s and I headed out of their house with her mom still trying to get me to stay. I left, heavy hearted and dejected, crying all the way home.
 
Back home, I needed something to numb the pain. I popped open a bottle of cherry and "Merry Christmas to me."
The problem with Christmas is that you not only have to endure one day of widow misery. I know I face it again this year, 'tho the intensity has become less and less through the years.