This time of year, many
people seem to be unable to having a “Happy Holiday.” Seeing
them brings back memories of the difficult time I went through in my own life. I know their pain
intimately. Once more, I remember how my
own sadness shaped and tempered my life into what it is today.
In the innocence of my
childhood, I thought anything was possible if I just believed hard
enough. My young world held images of Walt Disney on Sunday evening
on TV and all the magical characters that flew, leaped, and disappeared in and
out of the pages of books my father read to my sisters and me. It
naturally followed that I believed in Santa and all that meant. The
reality of life clashed with the myth when I was about seven or eight. Mother told
me Santa could only hold so many gifts on his sleigh and I had to share the
space with my brothers and sisters. I lowered my expectations for Christmas morning. When I was eleven or twelve,
another child taunted me about my ragged winter coat that came from Salvation
Army. This was when I learned not all families were poor and I
wondered why God had made me the big sister in a poor family.
Marriage quickly taught me
to live with things I could not change. I tried so hard to create
the perfect Christmas for my family. Baking and making gifts was my
passion from Thanksgiving to Christmas. I truly believed if I just
did everything right, gave the perfect gifts and cooked the perfect Christmas
dinner, everyone would be happy and I would have my dream Christmas. Always
my dream turned into a nightmare. In his drunken stupor, my husband
blamed me. My husband was an alcoholic who followed in his father’s
footsteps and most Christmases became his battleground. I silently
bore this guilt and shame until I too found another kind of magic…..the magic
of a black out. Soon I was drinking daily from almost 1 December to
2 January. This certainly did not cure the problems and
disappointments of Christmas but it made them easier to deal with at the
time. Of course, there was also the horrible guilt and
self-condemnation that came later.
Finally, the day came when
both my husband and I got sober. Our first Christmas was a huge
challenge for us both. Thankfully, we had both professional therapy
and AA to lean on and our Christmases gradually got better. We
celebrated four Christmases together.
The fourth Christmas we were sober was probably the
most peaceful and joyous for the two of us. Two
months later, we found out he had end stage lung cancer. Four months
after diagnosis, we buried him. His death and other family problems
fractured our family into a million pieces.
Twenty years later little has changed. I grieved the loss of
my husband and the destruction of my family and tried my best to move on. Christmas
often felt lonely and sad. For several years, I spent the holidays
with my daughter in Maine. I loved the
times spent with her family. Missing my
son’s family and the grandchildren, I never saw open gifts or experienced the
joy on their faces Christmas morning haunted me too.
A few years ago, I met my
current husband. Our first Christmas together was truly
magical. We gave each other wedding rings and exchanged vows. It
was not a legal ceremony but to this day, it is my memory of our wedding
day. My husband and I have now formed many new family traditions. We
no longer celebrate a religious Christmas, the holiday we celebrate today is
one of love and sharing and reaching out to other with that love. One
of our most cherished traditions today is the Christmas Eve party when we open
our house and our hearts to all our friends. I spend days cooking,
baking and planning a party that might not be perfect, but it will certainly
not lack for love.
I still see the sadness in
others eyes that I felt in my heart for so many years. Today I try to do some small thing to make
them smile or let them know someone cares about them. I remember the
AA meeting I used to go to at Christmas time. Quite often, the only
reason I went was to get and give the hugs at the end of the meeting.
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