The celebration of Christmas in my family has definitely changed over time.
Growing up, I can remember lining up with my sisters outside the living room door, eager to get to the tree and see what Santa had brought us. There was much laughter and Christmas carols and general happiness. We had three Christmases, one with just the five of us and one with each side of the family. All were fun and made for amazing memories. We would go to the Christmas Eve service at church, have dinner, then drive around town looking at decorations. I always looked forward to it.
In my high school and college years, Christmas never lived up to my expectations. I would imagine all the excitement over our gifts to each other, storytelling, Christmas songs coming from the record player, cooking together, and just being happy to be together. Christmas a la Leave it to Beaver.
But this was not reality. After my grandparents died, Christmases with each of my parents' sides of the family stopped. There were several Christmases where someone in my family was either recovering from or waiting to have back surgery. They were in pain, and so understandably grumpy, but it was Christmas dammit and I wanted a fairy tale.
Then there was the fighting. Inevitably someone would end up offending or upsetting someone else, there would be yelling, and by the end of Christmas day I would be crying in my bedroom wanting to be anywhere but there.
And then my dad got sick. Presents had to be opened in installments because he couldn't sit up very long. At the big Christmas meal, he merely picked at his plate, unable to eat. This wasn't the jolly, fun dad of Christmases past. Though it had only been a month since his diagnosis, we all knew on some level that this would be our last Christmas with him. We wanted it to be perfect, to be like in our childhood, to be able to look back on this holiday and remember it as a wonderful time. Of course, that wasn't possible given the circumstances. We went through the motions and just tried not to fall apart.
The first Christmas after he died, which also happened to be my husband's first Christmas with our family, no one was sure if they even wanted to celebrate the holiday. It wouldn't be the same, it would be sad, how would we handle it? Gifts were few and the festive spirit was completely absent.
The second year, my family came to DC for Christmas. The previous year had been so difficult we thought perhaps doing something new would make it easier. We had homemade Indian food for Christmas Eve dinner. Christmas morning was in our one bedroom apartment with no space for a tree. The Christmas meal was held at my uncle's house.
We enjoyed ourselves, and enjoyed being together, but it still couldn't hold a candle to what I wanted it to be.
I found myself wishing that my husband had seen how Christmas used to be. How could he understand my disappointment when he'd never witnessed the crazy fun we used to have?
By the time we started dating in college, Christmas was already stressful and he was at the other end of many a distressed phone call. After several years where one sister either brought her boyfriends home or missed Christmas to be at their houses, my parents instituted a new rule. We would all be home and no one else could come to Christmas until we were married. Not that it had ever occurred to me to bring my boyfriend home for Christmas anyway.
So as far as my husband knew, Christmas with my family was a time for anger, sadness, and awkward silences.
But this Christmas, oh this Christmas was different.
We had the holiday mall shopping experience. We decorated a tree and hung lights around the windows. We played Christmas carols and baked (ok, I baked). When my mom admitted missing my dad helping her with preparations, we made plans to go down early.
I spent several days in the kitchen with my mom, talking and cooking. We spent an evening, just the two of us, sipping wine and swapping stories. My oldest sister and I braved a store two days before Christmas and even had a good time doing it.
My brother-in-law joined us on Christmas Eve. We all went to church together, and my husband and his brother expressed a curiosity that delighted my mother (always the religious one in the family).
Come Christmas morning, we had breakfast together and had fun exchanging gifts. After the big meal, we played a game together that elicited lots of laughter. We managed to surprise my mother with a birthday celebration, something my dad had always managed to make special. We watched A Christmas Story. We watched some home movies. We went to bed exhausted but happy.
Sure, there were some things I would change about it. The tree was not fully decorated and there were no presents under it when we arrived. Several presents only got wrapped on Christmas Eve, taking a little away from the festive sight of presents bursting from under the tree. There was still some sniping and I did a lot more mediating and making sure everyone was happy than I would have preferred. And I would have liked more help in the preparations from my sisters, so that my mom and I wouldn't be so completely exhausted when it was over.
But those are tiny things. When it comes down to it, it was the best Christmas I've had in a very long time. And hopefully my husband now sees the things I always loved about this holiday.
Growing up, I can remember lining up with my sisters outside the living room door, eager to get to the tree and see what Santa had brought us. There was much laughter and Christmas carols and general happiness. We had three Christmases, one with just the five of us and one with each side of the family. All were fun and made for amazing memories. We would go to the Christmas Eve service at church, have dinner, then drive around town looking at decorations. I always looked forward to it.
In my high school and college years, Christmas never lived up to my expectations. I would imagine all the excitement over our gifts to each other, storytelling, Christmas songs coming from the record player, cooking together, and just being happy to be together. Christmas a la Leave it to Beaver.
But this was not reality. After my grandparents died, Christmases with each of my parents' sides of the family stopped. There were several Christmases where someone in my family was either recovering from or waiting to have back surgery. They were in pain, and so understandably grumpy, but it was Christmas dammit and I wanted a fairy tale.
Then there was the fighting. Inevitably someone would end up offending or upsetting someone else, there would be yelling, and by the end of Christmas day I would be crying in my bedroom wanting to be anywhere but there.
And then my dad got sick. Presents had to be opened in installments because he couldn't sit up very long. At the big Christmas meal, he merely picked at his plate, unable to eat. This wasn't the jolly, fun dad of Christmases past. Though it had only been a month since his diagnosis, we all knew on some level that this would be our last Christmas with him. We wanted it to be perfect, to be like in our childhood, to be able to look back on this holiday and remember it as a wonderful time. Of course, that wasn't possible given the circumstances. We went through the motions and just tried not to fall apart.
The first Christmas after he died, which also happened to be my husband's first Christmas with our family, no one was sure if they even wanted to celebrate the holiday. It wouldn't be the same, it would be sad, how would we handle it? Gifts were few and the festive spirit was completely absent.
The second year, my family came to DC for Christmas. The previous year had been so difficult we thought perhaps doing something new would make it easier. We had homemade Indian food for Christmas Eve dinner. Christmas morning was in our one bedroom apartment with no space for a tree. The Christmas meal was held at my uncle's house.
We enjoyed ourselves, and enjoyed being together, but it still couldn't hold a candle to what I wanted it to be.
I found myself wishing that my husband had seen how Christmas used to be. How could he understand my disappointment when he'd never witnessed the crazy fun we used to have?
By the time we started dating in college, Christmas was already stressful and he was at the other end of many a distressed phone call. After several years where one sister either brought her boyfriends home or missed Christmas to be at their houses, my parents instituted a new rule. We would all be home and no one else could come to Christmas until we were married. Not that it had ever occurred to me to bring my boyfriend home for Christmas anyway.
So as far as my husband knew, Christmas with my family was a time for anger, sadness, and awkward silences.
But this Christmas, oh this Christmas was different.
We had the holiday mall shopping experience. We decorated a tree and hung lights around the windows. We played Christmas carols and baked (ok, I baked). When my mom admitted missing my dad helping her with preparations, we made plans to go down early.
I spent several days in the kitchen with my mom, talking and cooking. We spent an evening, just the two of us, sipping wine and swapping stories. My oldest sister and I braved a store two days before Christmas and even had a good time doing it.
My brother-in-law joined us on Christmas Eve. We all went to church together, and my husband and his brother expressed a curiosity that delighted my mother (always the religious one in the family).
Come Christmas morning, we had breakfast together and had fun exchanging gifts. After the big meal, we played a game together that elicited lots of laughter. We managed to surprise my mother with a birthday celebration, something my dad had always managed to make special. We watched A Christmas Story. We watched some home movies. We went to bed exhausted but happy.
Sure, there were some things I would change about it. The tree was not fully decorated and there were no presents under it when we arrived. Several presents only got wrapped on Christmas Eve, taking a little away from the festive sight of presents bursting from under the tree. There was still some sniping and I did a lot more mediating and making sure everyone was happy than I would have preferred. And I would have liked more help in the preparations from my sisters, so that my mom and I wouldn't be so completely exhausted when it was over.
But those are tiny things. When it comes down to it, it was the best Christmas I've had in a very long time. And hopefully my husband now sees the things I always loved about this holiday.
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