Christmas

"Lake is frozen over. Trees are white with snow. And all
around reminders of you, are everywhere I go."

'Christmas is going to be a disaster this year. Maybe we should call it off', your brother says. You reassure him over and over again that it's going to be just fine. It's late at night on December 22nd, 2000. Your brother, who has flown in from Florida for Christmas, your Dad and you are discussing your mother's recent behavior. Your mother is asleep in her bedroom while the 3 of you have a few drinks in the kitchen. It's 2 days before Christmas Eve, a holiday your mother spends weeks getting ready for, you host it at your home, and not one thing has been done for the big night. The menu hasn't been finalized, food hasn't been purchased. Shopping still needs to be finished, presents yet to be wrapped. You vow to help her as much as you can to make your favorite night of the year a success.

"It's late and morning's in no hurry, but sleep won't set me free. I lie awake
and try to recall how your body felt beside me."

The next day you finish the grocery shopping. You tell your mother to finish the present shopping while you stay at home and clean. Christmas Eve day is spent wrapping the remaining presents and preparing the food. Your mother seems aloof.

"When silence gets too hard to handle and the night too long."

The rest of your family arrives Christmas Eve night. Everyone is in great spirits and happy it's Christmas. Your mother is in the kitchen preparing the coconut shrimp. She has burned every single one and thinks it's funny. She's singing Feliz Navidad at the top of her lungs, almost like she's drunk, but she has yet to drink a glass of wine. Everyone thinks it's funny. The remainder of the night is a success, despite the shrimp, you and your mom have pulled off another fabulous Christmas Eve. The following morning, Christmas Day, your mother is overly tired. You have breakfast, you open the gifts with your family, and your mother retires to bed in the early afternoon complaining of a backache.

"And this is how I see you, in the snow on Christmas morning. Love and happiness
surround you as you throw your arms up to the sky. I keep this moment by and
by."

The following month your mother is diagnosed with cancer of the lungs, kidneys, liver, and brain. She dies 10 months later. It's now understandable why Christmas was almost a disaster, her brain had been taken over with tumors. You wish you would have known that was going to be your last Christmas with her. You would have sung Feliz Navidad at the top of your lungs too and you would have laughed at how burnt the shrimp were.

"Oh how I miss you now...my Mom. Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry
Christmas, my Mom."

Christmas hasn't been the same since she died. As hard as you have tried, you just can't get the same Christmas spirit back as when she was alive. Yet something has changed slightly. This year is the 2nd year in a row your Dad has come to visit you for Christmas. It's becoming a tradition. Christmas Eve was spent at a family friend's home. It was not quite like the Christmas Eve's of old, but it was nice. For the 2nd year in a row you have made the same Christmas morning breakfast, 'Holiday French Toast', just like your mother used to make. And in the evening you host Christmas dinner. You can't expect the Christmas holidays to be the same as it was 20 years ago or even 10 years ago, especially after a loved one dies, but you are starting your own traditions and it's nice to have your father share in those traditions too.

"Sense of joy fills the air. I daydream and I stare up at the tree and I see
You're a star up there."

You think this might have been one of the best Christmases you have had in the past 8 years. You cry when you drop your Dad off at the airport. You feel sad for him for being alone. You call him a little later and he tells you he bought a few NY t-shirts at the airport to have souvenirs from the weekend. He said he wants something to remind him of how great this weekend was. You smile knowing he enjoyed himself. You pause remembering your mom's laughter while burning those shrimp. Your heart warms knowing she's smiling now at the relationship you have established with your father.

"And this is how I see you in the snow on Christmas morning. Love and happiness
surround you as you throw your arms up to the sky. I keep this moment by and
by."

(*Thank you to Sarah McLachlan for her song, "Wintersong". It gets me through each holiday season.)

Holiday Traditions

It seems when I was growing up, my family had certain holiday traditions that we followed, never breaking them. Thanksgiving day, every year, was the day we put up our Christmas decorations. As a child, I would wake up go downstairs where I would find my mother bringing up the decorations from the basement. She would tell me egg nog was in the refrigerator. I would have a glass of egg nog, while I watched the beginning of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. I would help my mother decorate our home while watching the parade and after the parade was over we would turn on Christmas carols. We would listen to Andy Williams' "red album" over and over again until we finally decided to move onto a Hallmark Christmas album. As I grew older I would normally pass on the egg nog being that I would be hungover, but would still help my mother decorate while watching the parade and listening to Andy Williams. It was a tradition, we did it every year.

My aunt and uncle (who lived next door) hosted Thanksgiving dinner and each year after dinner was over my father would ask everyone to come outside to see his outdoor Christmas light display. Inevitably his timer wouldn't work or a strand would be burned out, but each year the lights looked as beautiful as the year prior if not better. It was a tradition, we did it every year.

Christmas Eve was at our home. For as long as I can remember, my father would wear navy blue pants, a white shirt, a red and blue and green plaid tie, red suspenders and a Santa Claus hat. I can almost envision him coming down our stairs, his frosty beer mug in hand, saying 'ho ho ho' in that outfit. It was his Christmas outfit. It was a tradition, he did it every year.

The fireplace would be lit. You couldn't see the top of our dining room table as the amount of food my mother made was outrageous. We had the same thing every year: cheese balls, cheese and crackers, deviled eggs, veggie crudite, polish mistakes, scallops wrapped in bacon, teenie weenies, swedish meatballs, shrimp cocktail, ham, turkey and roast beef that you could make into mini sandwiches, turtle cheesecake, an array of Christmas cookies, and my red velvet peppermint 3 tiered cake. It was the same menu. It was tradition, we did it every year.

The family would arrive and our private family mass would begin. Father Paul would always have Jonathan and Libby read the readings. We would all have a chance to say a Christmas message. Someone would end up crying especially during the times when my mother was ill. My dad would get distracted by a burned out strand of lights outside on our deck. My mother would giggle at something odd Father Paul would say. My grandma always took communion when she wasn't "supposed to" and the dog would always lay in the center of our family circle. I would play the piano. The mass would start with "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" followed by "Silent Night" for the offertory, "The First Noel" for communion and end with "Joy to the World" where my Dad would do a solo. It cracked everyone up. It was fun, it was tradition, we did it ever year.

The alcohol would start flowing as soon as mass was over. I would be instructed to play Christmas carols while my mother, my uncle, and my grandfather would stand around the piano singing along. After food it was time for presents. I played Santa distributing the presents to everyone. My spot was always on the floor. We would open gifts in the order of youngest to oldest. I loved it since I was the youngest. The night would eventually come to an end. The 4 of us would recap the night while we had one last drink. It was normally after midnight and we would wish each other a Merry Christmas. It was tradition, we did it every year.

Christmas morning would consist of us eating breakfast, sausage and egg casserole, baked french toast, and cinnamon rolls. We would open presents after breakfast. Grandma and Grandpa came over for dinner/leftovers at night. We were always a bit depressed once Christmas day was over. Such a nice time would come and go so quickly. We were sad, it was tradition, we did it ever year.

My mother is no longer here. I live in NY with my husband, my brother lives in LA, and my father is still at home in IN. I don't have a certain day to put up my tree. I put it up when I have the time. I changed my Christmas decorations this year. I didn't put up my North Pole Village that I have had since I was in high school. It didn't seem right this year and I didn't do it. I don't have a Christmas Day menu, I'll make whatever sounds good to me. My husband doesn't like egg nog, so I don't buy it.

My brother and father are coming out east for the 2nd year in a row to spend Christmas with my husband and I. Will this become a tradition? I'm hoping one day to have a family of my own and maybe start my own traditions with my children. Maybe one day when we have a family we'll put up our tree the day after Thanksgiving while drinking egg nog and listening to Andy Williams' album. Maybe each Christmas morning I'll make my own special breakfast, then we'll open gifts and at night I'll make a delicious dinner. It will be a tradition, we will do it ever year.