Christmas Reds, Greens and Blues

It's Christmas Eve. I see reds and greens everywhere and my heart warms to joys of the holiday season. Since I was a little girl, Christmas has been the most special time of the year. My parents blew it out at Christmas, and I joined in when I became an adult. Our tree had more presents under it than that of most large families, and there were just the three of us, my mom and dad and me.

We had the presents part of Christmas figured out in a way that worked for all of us. We spent a lot of money every year, but we bought things for each other that we needed and/or wanted and probably would have bought anyway. It was all very practical, though we all tried to give one present that was a surprise, some fairly spectacular, some not. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were times of closeness and laughter, and I treasure those memories.

Most of all, our Christmas present opening was a great, FUN experience every year. I usually played Santa Claus, i.e., handed everyone their presents in turn. My mom would get carried away with each gift, wanting to examine it or play with it or try it on, and we had to hurry her along. My dad and I were more like "thanks -- I'll look at this in depth later; what's next?" Our eyes were bright with anticipation, just like kids', even if we pretty much knew what we were getting. We opened presents in the old German tradition, on Christmas Eve -- my dad was German and that's the way his family did it. After he died in 1994, my mom and I shifted that to Christmas morning the first year but went right back to Christmas Eve the next year. It just felt right for us.

I used to like going to church on Christmas Eve but as my parents got older they wanted to open the packages earlier and were irritated at having to wait so long so I stopped going. It only felt like a sacrifice the first year or so; I saw how happy it made my folks to have our family time uninterrupted. We'd put on Christmas music and get our (non-alcoholic) drinks, stake out our places in the living room where we could pile up our goodies as we opened them, and we'd usually be finished by anywhere between 9:30 and 11:00. Every year we'd shake our heads in amazement and comment, "What a Christmas!" We knew we were blessed.

When my mom met the man who would be her companion for 11 years until she passed away in 2009, it only took one off-target Christmas and by the next one we had him trained. The three of us had a decade of pretty incredible Christmases, not just because of the presents but also because of being together and all of us pitching in to get our traditional turkey dinner on the table, thanks in part to the pre-prepped dinners from one of the local grocery stores, which were pretty darn good! Even doing the dishes together was a bonding holiday experience.

Such totally grand memories of Christmases all of my life! I spent every single Christmas of my life with both of my parents until my dad died and then with my mom until she died. So Christmas of 2009 was quite a shock. It was like going from 100 miles an hour to hitting a big, nasty, immovable Jersey barrier. My mom had passed away less then two months prior to that and it was sad and empty without her. Deeply, gut-level sad. I was also still in shock. I have great friends and that helped.

This year, however, I decided not to travel to see my good friends in Phoenix as I have in years past. (Phoenix is where my mom lived; I lived there myself for a decade, and I have fabulous friends there.) So on Christmas Eve, tonight, I went solo to the Cheesecake Factory, which is so close by that I walked to it. Dinner was delicious and the holiday din of fellow diners felt festive while I ate and read my Kindle.

Christmas Day I have no plans. I turned down invitations to some folks' homes, some in other states. I don't mind being alone. I'd rather be alone than be with somebody else's family -- it would make me miss mine even more. The exception has been my good, good friend in Phoenix where I've spent the last two Christmases, and I do miss her and her family, who all treat me like I am an honorary member. But, like I said, I am not traveling this Christmas.

So along with the reds and greens of Christmas, there are a few blues. As I was walking to dinner, I was grateful for all of the loving, blessed Christmases I've had with my family over the years (just two with a husband, and we were with my parents both of those Christmases). The memories of all those years together mute the blues. I feel like even though my incredible parents are gone and I miss them down to my toes, I am in the light. And, it's not blue. Merry Christmas, everybody.