There are 9 days until Christmas. Surprisingly, I am prepared. Presents are bought and wrapped (with the exception of maybe 2 very easy things to pick up). Travel plans to see family are made. House is trimmed. No cookies baked, though… one thing I debated on doing, but decided against considering 2015 is going to be a carb free event. (why not start early?)
So, on paper, things are great.
The holidays bring out mixed emotions in me. While I believe in the ‘magic’ of the season and the giving, not receiving part, part of me is disgruntled.
I am frustrated over how commercialized the holiday has become. I struggle with ‘feeding’ my four-year-old ideas about Santa. (disclaimer… I am not a Grinch, Santa WILL visit our house)
I feel guilty about how much we have (not a lot by some standards, but way too much by others). I try to give back. I attempt to think of and do for those less fortunate.
I am sad and sentimental too. This time of year shines a huge spotlight on loss. There is one less person to buy and wrap for. One less place to set at the table. My son has one less grandparent to watch him delight in opening presents. It’s sad.
My son’s daycare class participated in a local gingerbread house contest. The houses were on display at our local civic center. We went to support our son and take pictures. This was an event we used to go to with my dad (albeit the theme was different- decorated Christmas trees, but the charity it supports is the same). As we walked around admiring the displays I was overcome with emotion. The soft lighting and holiday music were just too much. As I walked, I thought about how my dad should be here to see his grandson’s masterpiece. I broke. I stood in front of a massive gingerbread display and wept. To add insult to injury “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” was playing in the background.
I’ve been trying to hold myself together for weeks now, busying myself with holiday preparations, trying to make things memorable and special for my little one.
But at that place and that moment, I broke. I stood in front of a gingerbread display and wept openly. I cried for my dad and the memories he will never be a part of.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year. For some of us. For others of us we just muddle through the best we can.
And Merry Christmas.