Here we are 3 days from Christmas and I am nowhere near the Christmas spirit. Now Christmas and I have had a tumultuous relationship. Like all kids I loved it when I was younger (who doesn’t love presents). I even enjoyed the candles in church. The songs I’ve always loved singing, it’s my truly happy place, so the songs of my youth were always special.
Then things changed. My best and worst Christmas when I was a young adult happened in the same year 1985. I was 13 years old. My Aunt had just had a baby a few days before Christmas and this would be the first time I would hold her. She was so small and beautiful, in my adolescent mind I couldn’t fathom ever loving another being more than her. She was perfect. I held her a lot that day and she grew up with me always there like a big brother there to help her and her the same for me (closer to me than my own brother). That was the afternoon. For the evening we needed to visit my Pop-pop. Pop had had several strokes on the operating table as they were trying to clear some blockage from his arteries a few weeks prior to Christmas, leaving him paralyzed on the left side and non communicative. This was the hard part. You see for a long time me and Pop were inseparable. I was and am just like him rough and grumpy of an exterior but a giant teddy bear that will love you with every fiber in his being. So when we got to the hospital and it was time to feed him Christmas dinner with a syringe it was and still is a hard memory (tears are in my eyes typing this) so even at that young age I began to doubt everything question God, “why would you make him or me suffer like that?”
After that for a really long time I hated Christmas until after I found her (she tried to get me into the holiday). Then He came into my life I loved him so much that I named him after my Pop. As he got bigger I made the effort to really like Christmas this was the time of the Santa hats and blinking red noses (which we would wear out everywhere, including the rest rides on Harley’s I fixed at the time.) Then my Ladybugs started coming and there were many years when we were happy all year but especially Christmas. Me putting the songs on my ipod a big deal every year so we can sing in the car. Last year was my first one outside of the house, and although it was different we still had a nice season.
Fast forward to this Christmas my two older kids have been angry with me most of this year (He disowned me via email at Thanksgiving) but my three little Ladybugs love me more than anything. When I asked the Queen yesterday when I get them for Christmas I was told 2-6 pm. So this season has been hard for me.
So I’ve made the conscious decision to work overtime this weekend. I can make some money and keep my mind a little busy. It will also keep me away from the constant reminder that I had a family and I fucked it all up. I have a bunch of friends that have invited me over to share in their holiday, to which I am very grateful but feel like an intruder. So for me I’ll be occupied till 12/25 at 2pm then Daddy will be in heaven.
I wish you all (like there’s more than one person reading this) a Merry Christmas!