It's Christmas, right? I'm aware of this by the date and the fact that my mother and I have made a ham and a potato casserole and have the makings of two other casseroles to be assembled tomorrow. I'm not ashamed to admit, I cried a little tonight. Christmas is all akimbo these last few years for me, and this year, I'm sort of non-soluble and writing IOUs for presents. I am at once feeling like a huge douche bag and a liberated human being. Yes, weird.
Every Christmas since my father died, this marks #4, I don't deal terribly well with this holiday. I've recounted things that stuck in my head from my dad to my mom, and she doesn't remember. I can't speak to what resonates with whom, but I have very distinct memories of cooking Christmas Eve dinner at our house and then Christmas dinner at my grandmother's, after early-morning Santa.
My mom didn't even remember when I learned Santa didn't exist. I pried it out of my dad, but I think he was ready to relinquish the late night/early morning Santa duties. I just remember thinking that my parents were giant liars. When I figured out that "Santa" would continue bringing presents, I was pretty much okay, but I do think I asked my dad how he could be okay with blatantly lying to me. I think he coughed and stuttered and muttered something about wonderment. I just thought they were giant liars.
I was talking to my mom tonight. I think I found about Santa when I was about 8, and I really later questioned how stupid I could be, to believe the whole one man delivering presents to the whole world in one night. How did I buy that? It seemed implausible, but I think it was my last belief in otherworldly magic, that which I could not fully understand, like maybe he and God were working together. It's a giant conspiracy, really, the Santa Tracker on the news, and unless you're a giant asshole, you're keeping that secret from children until you're told otherwise.
Sure, if I have children, I'll let them believe in Santa. I think it encourages wonderment and the belief in magical possibilities. It gives them that glimpse into things that cannot be explained, and that's a good thing. My dad used to attach jingle bells from "the sleigh" to our windows and jingle them when he thought we were sleeping. He only used cursive writing to write "as Santa," because he never wrote in cursive writing, and he and I watched the original Grinch every year. I want to sit and watch it with him so bad, it aches inside me, and I miss his smart-ass sense of humor, that he passed down to me, and no one else in the family gets. So, I settle for my memories and the knowledge that I was loved by him, and he would not want me to wallow and be sad. I just want to hear his voice say my name, but I will settle for his camp recordings and pictures and countless memories and the fact that he knew that I loved him more than anything, and that feeling was completely reciprocated.
I don't like this Christmas. I'll be fine. I get to go nuts with my niece and nephew, and they are precious and my loves and think I'm awesome (for now). I just want to make their Christmas awesome, and I'll deal with my holiday psychosis later. Christmas is for the little people. I enjoyed a handful of adult Christmases, and I'll adjust to enjoying more. Just not maybe this year. Have YOURselves a Merry little Christmas. Everyone deserves it.
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