Annoying Christmas Autobiographical Pause #435
It’s usually happens to me about three days before Christmas every year. I become a bit emotional.
I don’t know why, or maybe I do and then I just ignore it, I then forget about it and then it comes as an annual event and there I am again. Damn cycle of holiday emotions.
I think some of my perceptions of this holiday goes back over three decades when I would spend the Brady Bunch Christmas at my grandmother’s house. We called her Nanny and she was a jovial woman who smoked Salem cigarettes, laughed this deep hearty laugh and could outcook anyone in three states. She read her bible, she went to church but she loved a good Tom Collins and was unapologetic about it. She taught me a lot and I miss her. She was a paradox and a wonderful role model who taught me that kindness was important and to treat people the way I wanted to be treated. She also didn’t believe you had to be one thing.
You just needed to be yourself.
When my grandfather died, she slowly withered away. She is the only person I know, although it was diagnosed as breast cancer, that passed away with a broken heart. There isn’t any way you could convince me otherwise.
We tried to recreate the joyful Christmases we had with her. The truly awful Christmas tree that had wire stuck with some sort of flammable branches on it, the presents that would fill a room, the amazing feast she would cook in her small kitchen that met us each year as we anxiously anticipated Christmas Eve. We tried to find that in which she created.
And each year, we failed.
Because it just wasn’t the same. As I grew older, I have found myself looking for that feeling I had when she was alive. Big Daddy is unabashedly not a fan of the holiday, though he tries (Nanny was my mother’s mom) and Homer gets it closer to my grandmother than anyone. I loved my own mother dearly, but when her mother passed away, she sort of abandoned Christmas. Not the actions of the holiday, but the feelings in her heart.
So, each year I seek those joyous feelings of Nanny’s small house. And each year, I find a few days before Christmas not being able to find it. And I’m disappointed. And it comes out in anger then an emotionally full moment where I realize that some things in our lives we cannot replace.
Now, this is whiny. I get that. And to be honest, this year I’ve had more fun than I’ve had in years. But that feeling struck me yesterday. The longing, that desire to feel.
That need for my childhood passion in which my grandmother was the real Santa Claus.
I am blessed. I have a wonderful life. This upcoming year is the one that will make or break me professionally. I’ve been aggressive in changing some of the things in my life that I want to alter and I’m pleased that I can take one thing at a time now instead of getting overwhelmed by the many distractions that are life. There are so many people in this world that have less than I do. I’m pleased I have love. I may not have a new car or the job I’ve been seeking, but I have family whom I adore and friends who would do anything for me as I would for them.
And yet, I miss that laugh and the twinkling of her eyes that was more about Christmas than any present.
Now back to your regular scheduled programming at Newscoma.
Photo from here.
Beautifully written and remembered. I remember and miss pretty much the same thing.
Thank you. It was hard to write.
Many good wishes to you and yours in the next few days.
It has been a pleasure to get to know you over the course of this year. Someday we must hang out in Hooterville or if y’all can ever breakaway for a few days, I’d love to show you the Corner.
Merry Christmas to you and all those you hold dear.
Not “annoying.” Not “whiny.” Beautiful, and so close to what so many of us feel now that we’re grownups around Christmastime. Thank you for articulating it.
I am a year away from 50, my folks and grandparents are all gone, so this hits home with me more than you know. Thank you for having the courage to put this out there. I’m sending it to my best friend because she still has most of her people, and doesn’t quite understand why I have stood in the Costco parking lot, yelling “I HATE CHRISTMAS” at the top of my lungs.
May you and Stephanie know only peace and love this Christmas.
You’re killing me over here… I’m so emotional right now I feel like a big old cry blister, just ready to pour out sobs everywhere… and here you go with this. There are so many I’ve lost from my holidays that I miss so much… this pretty much sums up how I feel. Exactly. Sending you and yours a big old hug! Merry Christmas!
That’s not being whiney, remembering loved ones from our past is one of the reasons we celebrate Christmas.
After Dad died Christmas was never the same at the house where I grew up, the house he build himself. Then Mom suffered there for years with Alzheimer’s and I moved back in to care of her. Try as I might, there was little cheer in the place during those holidays. After she died I sold it to a close friend who has big family gatherings at Thanksgiving and Christmas. I am always invited and it’s almost like going back home again. The tree is in the same corner of the big old living room although it is not a cedar as we had (allergies you know) and there was never a grand piano in the old days. The kitchen is warm and cheery again and the table is laid with all the treats of the season.
The home place is just next door and I’m there almost daily for afternoon coffee and the occasional little maintenance problems that plague an old house.
You can never go home again, but this is close.
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‘Coma, this is beautiful. Happy Christmas.
Pop Collie smoked Salems. He’d let the ash get REALLY long and then, when he thumped it, it was as if the earth trembled just a little. Even as an old man who sat in the chair with his eyes closed, hearing aid box at his chest…he was still a commanding presence.
I had many years of feeling so empty at Christmas and then I realized I tried too hard to make it…something. Then you realize it is always something and the more you try to make it what it was, the sadder you get. If that makes sense.
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