Oh, the holidays. They can get complicated, can’t they? I mean, there’s the Norman Rockwell version of Christmas, right? When everyone is happy and smiling, and all the food that mother cooked all by herself is perfect, and the table is set perfectly. Only, that just doesn’t happen. Anywhere.
The Christmas day portrayed in “A Christmas Story” is probably closer to reality. Kids ripping through presents. Something getting broken. The Bumpuss’ dogs getting into the house and taking the turkey before it’s even done, and then going out for Chinese food. OK, maybe not always quite that bad. Although there was this one Thanksgiving, when I was maybe 13 or so, when the dog got into the turkey and the lemon meringue pie and there was a huge dog-mess in the house and then we had to go out…but that’s another story.
So yesterday. The first day of Christmas. It was lovely, as I’ve already blogged about. It really was lovely. And Twenty-Year-Old got a TARDIS journal from her brothers and sisters. Which was pretty funny, actually, because I’d gotten one too, from someone I work with. So now we have matching TARDIS journals, as if we need more things that match (as Pregnant Daughter pointed out). Twenty-Year-Old is practically my clone already, and that used to drive my husband Don crazy. I mean, she and I will say the exact same things at the same time. We’ll laugh exactly the same way. He’d say it was like living in stereo.
After watching Doctor Who last night (and by the way, that was wonderful, and a beautiful send-off for Matt Smith), we watched “It’s A Wonderful Life” because, well, Christmas. It was very late when the movie was over, so dear daughter went down to bed, and I switched on “Spaceballs” and started to fall asleep.
A short while later, 20-Year-Old was knocking at my door and sobbing. She wanted to spend the night with me. Of course! How can a mother say no? When I asked her what was bothering her, she showed me her journal. There in the wee hours of the morning, she’d decided to start writing. All it said at the top of the page was, “Merry Christmas, Daddy,”. She couldn’t get any further.
So there we were, snuggled together, like when she was a little thing. We talked about Don. We talked about past Christmases. We talked about how we both missed him. We paid no attention to the movie. Pretty soon, she decided that she could finish writing.
Sometimes, two can feel lonely, but only for a while. The amazing thing about two is that there is a power there. The power of two can multiply, and then the loneliness recedes.
We aren’t going to stop missing our husband and father, just as we haven’t stopped missing our son and brother. However, we remain grateful for the family that we still have all around us. They’re a great bunch.
On this second day of Christmas, when many people (including me) return to work and daily life, it’s good to remember that it is still Christmas. We continue to carry the light of the world within us.
May the light give you both heat and light. That’s it. That’s my mite.
- The Twelve Blogs of Christmas: First Day – The Whole Family Tree (thewidowsmiteyblog.wordpress.com)