Christmas comes but once a year

Earlier today I began to think about all of the Christmas decorations I've seen in the neighborhoods and posted on Facebook. I recalled how, as a child, I loved to make the trip around the corner at my grandparents house to see what their neighbor had added to his house in the way of Christmas decorations for that year. It was the highlight of the trips to Virginia. I also began to actually think about Christmas this year for me. And that made what had been a good day a little less so. The way to get through the first year of grief - as well as subsequent years, is to focus on the moment and not on the future. Because the future is too darn big and too darn scary to face. 

Seven years ago my wife and I made the decision not to put up a Christmas tree in the house. We still put a small amount of decorations outside but nothing like we once did when our daughter was still with us. It no longer felt like Christmas. There was no longer a pile of blankets at the foot of our bed where our daughter would spend every Christmas Eve. There was no real reason to celebrate at our home. We still celebrated with the family as we watched the nephews and nieces tear into their packages while still at the age where quantity was better than quality. But for the last five years we found ourselves cruising the Caribbean on Christmas Day where it felt a little less like Christmas and where we did not expect to see our daughter at every turn. As it is I can still recall the first Christmas at sea and the poem I wrote about it. 

Christmas Without You

Another Christmas passed without you in it

Your mother and I tried to escape

As we loaded up the car, you weren't there

As we traveled down the road, you weren't there

As we looked out over the ocean, you weren't there

As we walked along the beach, you weren't there

You were so missed

Then I felt it...

In the laughter around the pool, I heard you there

In the smile of a toddler, I glimpsed you there

In the eyes of your mother, I saw you there

In our hearts, I felt you there

You were not there to great us when we returned

How could you be?

You were with us all along

As I began to reflect on my first Christmas without both my wife and daughter I thought that perhaps it was time to add decorations to my living room. Something to mark the season other than the cinnamon candle I found and lit. I could string garland along the fireplace mantle and place candles and bows in the windows. I could put great big Christmas balls on the front porch and put greenery around the columns. I could make the house look and smell like Christmas. Perhaps that would lighten my mood. 

Yes, I could do all of that and was seriously considering it until I rounded the corner tonight and saw a neighbor with a beautiful Christmas tree in their window. It was wonderfully lit and made me think it was time to bring mine down from the attic after 7 years of hibernation. But then I realized something. I would have nothing under the tree. No presents. No one to buy presents for and leave under the tree until Christmas morning where we could waken and rush to open them. This year I don't have to worry about whether or not I got my wife the perfect gift. I don't have to hear her gripe at me for getting her something when we agreed not to do so. I don't have to see her pull out the gift she had gotten me that also broke the agreement. 

No, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus in my house this year. And I'm not sure how I'm going to handle it. Dad always told us as kids that Santa didn't want milk and cookies. Santa wanted beer and pretzels. It will be difficult not to join Santa in his diet this year. But that's not who I am and not how I'll deal with it. 

So, do you want to know what I want for Christmas (aside from the obvious that I can't have)? I want to pretend that December 25th is just another day off. I'm not even sure where I'm going to do my pretending. But regardless of where, please know that I will be wishing you the merriest of Christmases possible.  And don't worry, the spirit of Christmas will still live in my heart - just like it does all year round. Because if you treat every day as Christmas, then it makes the actual day a little less painful. At least that's what I'm hoping.