Christmas Epiphany

Over the years, my approach to the holidays has evolved. A lot. As a kid, my parents were "anti holiday".

My mom :
From what I can gather, she inherited her attitude. Even so, when I was a kid, she did make an effort, which I'm sure now she just did for me. When I was about seven or eight, my parents gave me a gigantic stuffed St. Bernard for a Christmas gift. He was in a huge box that my mom wrapped with wallpaper because that was the only paper that she had enough to cover the box. I loved that stuffed dog. I even remember how sad he looked sitting on the curb still wearing his collar with his little plastic brandy barrel many years later, waiting for the Good Will truck to pick him up.

My dad:
His family was very poor, and when he was in the second grade his teacher went around the class and asked everyone what they got for Christmas. He didn't get anything. My dad is as honest as the day is long, so he didn't make up an answer. He hasn't liked Christmas since. The interesting thing about this story is he didn't come to dislike the holidays because he didn't get anything. He dislikes them because he was embarrassed at having to say he didn't get anything. I made the mistake of telling my daughter this story. Her take on it is that Santa Claus is mean and unfair. And she's right in many ways. Isn't that the point of many of the stories about Christmas - proving just how great Santa really is because he doesn't neglect the poor people - even though we all know he does.


Me:
I was well on the path to becoming a true anti-holiday person. My parents had divorced and I think particularly as an only child, I felt pulled in all directions. To be fair, that pressure was entirely self-inflicted, and enhanced by having a boyfriend whose parents were also divorced. But when I was in my late twenties, something happened. Nobody hit me, I wasn't in an accident. My epiphany came while I was in the midst of spreading my bah humbug attitude throughout my little world. But I did work with a group of holiday fanatics - or at least that's how they appeared to me. One day, with little warning, I realized that I was expending a tremendous amount of energy hating the holidays, and it would be much easier on me (not to mention those around me who were subjected to my constant humbugging) to just go with the flow. In retrospect, those fanatical co-workers really weren't all that fanatical - they just represented the holiday standard.

I started small. The first year, I just quit complaining. By the next year I was starting to respond to those bidding me a Merry Christmas with a heartfelt "Merry Christmas to you, too!" By year three, I was hooked. I think I even bought toilet paper printed with Santa's List that year. I began to relax during the holidays and I quit looking for everything that was wrong with the season. I began collecting Christmas decorations!

Now I have a nine-year old daughter. I'm so glad that I started liking the holidays a long time ago, because I'd certainly have to make the transition now. We're a small little group, with just the two of us and maybe my dad. This will be my first Christmas without my mom. I miss her. I think she was starting to kind of like being with us for the holidays. She's sure been on my mind most of the day today. Last year she was a hospice patient, living in a residential care home, but we brought her here for Christmas Eve. She seemed to enjoy it - quite a lot. We definitely enjoyed having her here, knowing even then that it could be her last Christmas with us. A week later, my mom got her best gift when we were brought her back here to our home to live with us. That also included having good hair days again. Hair is important - one of the easiest little fixes for cheering oneself up. Mom passed away on May 3 but lives on in our hearts. I'm finding another small evolution taking place this year, experiencing my first Christmas without my mom. As I pass through stores, I find myself thinking, "Mom would like that! Oh. Wait. She's gone." It makes me a little sad this year, but I know from experience that time will buffer the sadness. And in the interim, my dad is getting crankier by the minute. Bah Humbug and Merry Christmas!