Growing up, Christmas was always my favorite holiday. It meant my family would be together.
I was the youngest of four children, so much younger than all my siblings that by the time I started grade school, I was the only one left at home. So Christmas meant that my brothers and sister would be home at last, and we could be together to enjoy the holidays.
To me, Christmas has always been about family.
Marrying Mike meant a whole new set of Christmas traditions, all of which were a joy for me to witness and engage in.
Mike grew up Jewish, but he had converted to Christianity in adulthood, and so partaking in Christmas traditions was something he reveled in.
His romance with the trappings of Christmas traditions was one to behold. (Truly, there is no better word to describe it than "romance".)
Mike was the guy who had visions in his dreams of the perfect Christmas tree. Every year, he would take us to the Christmas tree lot and go in search of the tree. Towards the end of his life, he finally succumbed to the idea that perhaps his perfect tree could not be found in nature. More than that, he was no longer willing to pay such high prices for a tree that does not actually quite "cut it".
So he researched his perfect artifical tree, which would be prelit, of course, with LED lights. It would be 12 feet tall because... why not?
And yes, he did purchase it and was able to marvel at its perfection on his very last Christmas with us... which was also a Christmas that was hard to enjoy with COVID.
There were other things, too.
Mike convincing our children that Santa is real, going to such lengths to do so. Sleigh bells on the roof. Santa (really, our neighbor Vince) showing up on Christmas Eve. A security camera video of Santa (a magical ball of light) visiting our Christmas tree and leaving presents (edited with movie magic, of course). "Official" gift tags from the North Pole, complete with naughty/ nice checkboxes, inspection stamp, and delivery instructions (down chimney, through front door, through fire escape, etc.).
Throughout the years, he told our girls that the only reason Santa doesn't show up in some people's houses is because they do not believe in Santa anymore.
And every year, I would ask him when he was going to tell them he'd been making up all this stuff this entire time.
And every year, he'd laugh and say, "Not this year!"
So fast forward to this Christmas season, where I have an almost-15-year old and a 12-year old that have both written notes to Santa, fully expecting Santa to appear at our Christmas tree sometime between "sleep o'clock" and "wake o'clock" on Christmas Eve.
(Mike, you rascal. Now I am left to carry on the con....)
We had all been enchanted by Mike at Christmas season. He was not a random gifter, but rather one who gave very thoughtfully.
At the Christmas table, he was always the most appreciative. He filled my heart with his apparent delight at everything I served him.
And so it is not surprising that this time of year has been especially hard for us.
Our Christmas tree is still not completely decorated. There is the problem with the star that keeps falling off the top of the tree. And we seem to have a minor disagreement about whether the tree needs more ornaments. (I say yes, but....)
We do not have Christmas lights bedecking our roof. I have yet to bring out other decorations.
Gifts have yet to be wrapped... and I am not sure I got presents for everyone on my "normal list" (because I did not make a list this year).
There is also the family Christmas card that I never got around to designing.
The list goes on of things I have not done.
Trust me when I say that it is not for the lack of wanting to. It is not even an issue of accessibility. Many of these things are literally within reach.
I feel that my entire household are simply a bit immobilized. Frozen.
Last year, I took everyone on a cruise to Mexico to escape all this. We didn't feel this way that we feel now, although we were mourning the absence of our beloved.
This year, the grief is a bit crushing. While we have grown accustomed to Mike's absence in our daily life, it is with a little bit of disbelief that we are walking into this Christmas season without him.
Our magic-maker. The joyful Christmas elf. The third kid. My partner-in-secrets.
(Also? My foot warmer. Fact.)
We are definitely feeling blue this Christmas, even as we remind ourselves of what this season is truly about.
This is a blueness that sinks to the pit of my stomach and causes my limbs to feel heavy. The kind that gives me blinding headaches.
I cannot seem to help it, even when I remind myself of my many blessings:
Our kids. My friends. My extended family. My paid bills. Our health and the resources available to us.
My children are blue, too, although not as blue as me.
We remind each other that we are family. That we each love the other. That we have enough. In fact, we have plenty. This has become our daily affirmation of late.
But it sometimes feels like a lie when we are reminded of what used to be.
I think, mostly, we are hoping to capture moments of joy this season. Even if we are not feeling especially joyful.
It helps to have a list, how ever short. For today, my list reads:
Hang big Christmas star.
Wrap some presents before kids get home from school.
Buy ham.
Seems doable, right? The list always looks doable. But if I'm being honest, this is the same list from yesterday, with the exception of purchasing the ham.
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