Blue Christmas
The other day I got an email from my mother asking for Christmas gift suggestions. Already?! It’s only August!
I used to be one of those people who start their Christmas shopping in September, finish by Halloween and have everything wrapped by Thanksgiving. This practice allowed me to shop when stores weren’t crowded and gave me plenty of time to find the perfect gift for everyone on my list. It also spread out the joy of giving over several months; I could imagine my son’s smiling face weeks before he would see the gifts. Sure, there was occasionally an item on his list to Santa that I hadn’t anticipated, but it was much easier to run to the store for one or two things than to buy everything when the toy store was packed with frantic parents. Plus I had the entire month of December to decorate, bake cookies, and watch holiday programs on TV. As the song says, it was the most wonderful time of the year.
The first Christmas after my son’s death was excruciatingly painful. I thought I had prepared for his absence by planning a trip away from home during the holiday. If Christmas was out of sight, surely it could be out of mind. I told my family that I was skipping Christmas that year and, with the exception of my niece and nephew, they shouldn’t expect gifts from me. Everyone gave me a pass that year; they had some idea how hard it was for me.
We were living in Florida at the time, and my husband and I drove to Key West on Christmas Eve Day and spent the next few days ignoring the fact that it was Christmas. We ate seafood and Key Lime pie, shopped in quaint little stores, and took a day cruise on a sailboat. It was a nice trip, but every night in the hotel, after my husband went to bed, I cried myself to sleep.
The second Christmas without our son was equally hard, plus I was no longer given a pass by the rest of my family. They expected me to carry on as before and they tried their hardest not to let me avoid the holiday again. I started receiving emails with Christmas gift suggestions and party invitations. They were all trying to get me back in the spirit of things, but it felt forced. Sure, I could send cards and buy gifts but my heart wasn’t in it because the person I really wanted to buy presents for was gone. Again, I ignored the holiday as much as I could. There was no tree, no gaily wrapped gifts, no carols, no cookies and no Bing Crosby movies. I bought gifts for my niece and nephew but everyone else got a gift certificate. I used the fact that we were moving back to Arizona in January as an excuse to avoid the family gathering at my brother’s house. I wasn’t ready to sit and watch everyone else play happy family. I felt like the Grinch.
I don’t know how this Christmas is going to turn out. Like I said, my mother is already pestering me for gift ideas. Holiday gatherings are already being planned, airline tickets have been bought, and it has been mentioned that it would be nice if I could join everyone this year.
I miss the rituals of the holiday season, but they hold no meaning for me anymore. I was never a very religious person; for me, Christmas was always a secular celebration of family. But I don’t feel like celebrating anymore. I haven’t decided whether I’m up to the task of faking it this year, but the calendar still has a few pages left before December rolls around again. I’m in no hurry.
I used to be one of those people who start their Christmas shopping in September, finish by Halloween and have everything wrapped by Thanksgiving. This practice allowed me to shop when stores weren’t crowded and gave me plenty of time to find the perfect gift for everyone on my list. It also spread out the joy of giving over several months; I could imagine my son’s smiling face weeks before he would see the gifts. Sure, there was occasionally an item on his list to Santa that I hadn’t anticipated, but it was much easier to run to the store for one or two things than to buy everything when the toy store was packed with frantic parents. Plus I had the entire month of December to decorate, bake cookies, and watch holiday programs on TV. As the song says, it was the most wonderful time of the year.
The first Christmas after my son’s death was excruciatingly painful. I thought I had prepared for his absence by planning a trip away from home during the holiday. If Christmas was out of sight, surely it could be out of mind. I told my family that I was skipping Christmas that year and, with the exception of my niece and nephew, they shouldn’t expect gifts from me. Everyone gave me a pass that year; they had some idea how hard it was for me.
We were living in Florida at the time, and my husband and I drove to Key West on Christmas Eve Day and spent the next few days ignoring the fact that it was Christmas. We ate seafood and Key Lime pie, shopped in quaint little stores, and took a day cruise on a sailboat. It was a nice trip, but every night in the hotel, after my husband went to bed, I cried myself to sleep.
The second Christmas without our son was equally hard, plus I was no longer given a pass by the rest of my family. They expected me to carry on as before and they tried their hardest not to let me avoid the holiday again. I started receiving emails with Christmas gift suggestions and party invitations. They were all trying to get me back in the spirit of things, but it felt forced. Sure, I could send cards and buy gifts but my heart wasn’t in it because the person I really wanted to buy presents for was gone. Again, I ignored the holiday as much as I could. There was no tree, no gaily wrapped gifts, no carols, no cookies and no Bing Crosby movies. I bought gifts for my niece and nephew but everyone else got a gift certificate. I used the fact that we were moving back to Arizona in January as an excuse to avoid the family gathering at my brother’s house. I wasn’t ready to sit and watch everyone else play happy family. I felt like the Grinch.
I don’t know how this Christmas is going to turn out. Like I said, my mother is already pestering me for gift ideas. Holiday gatherings are already being planned, airline tickets have been bought, and it has been mentioned that it would be nice if I could join everyone this year.
I miss the rituals of the holiday season, but they hold no meaning for me anymore. I was never a very religious person; for me, Christmas was always a secular celebration of family. But I don’t feel like celebrating anymore. I haven’t decided whether I’m up to the task of faking it this year, but the calendar still has a few pages left before December rolls around again. I’m in no hurry.
posted by Patricia at
Sunday, August 06, 2006
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