Finding My Christmas Spirit

It’s so predictable isn’t it? The holidays arrive on the scene and *BAM* time to get all buuuummed out again. Yup, here I’ve been moving along pretty well the past few months. I’ve somehow managed to keep my “happy” momentum going at a fairly steady, normal-ish pace… and then the holidays come along and that momentum fades to a slow, hiccuping crawl.

Because, oh yeah. My mom is gone.

It’s a strange thing. My mother has lived many states away from me for almost two decades. She’s even lived continents away from me at times. It’s been years since I’ve lived near my mother for very long periods. Honestly, I’m not sure either of us would have survived it if I had. So I have prepared for the holidays without her many times over. I’ve spent most Thanksgivings without her. I’ve even had quite a few Christmases without her too.

So why is it that this year, as I drive by neighborhood decorations and pick up a poinsettia for my front stoop, that I feel such blank, cold loss?

Ok, sure. It’s because she’s gone.

But still. Sometimes (and here’s when the guilt creeps it’s way in) the void she’s left rings through my soul much MUCH more loudly than her actual presence ever did. She seems to have made a larger impression on my life dead than she did alive.

Ugh. That’s real nice.

But I’ll just assume there’s probably some very logical explanation for this, straight out of a psychology text book, under the chapter marked “Grieving Process”. (There better be, or else it’s probably found under the chapter marked “Sucky Daughter”.)

Whatever it is, I have no say over it. I’m simply sad because someone – who was never here very much anyway – is gone forever.

Here’s the thing. I LOVE Christmas time. I totally over-do the lights and holly and the silver and gold. And Christmas music? I think I may have five versions of every jingle. You want “Winter Wonderland”? Well, I’ve got that in Bing Crosby, Louis Armstrong and Frank Sinatra. Bring it. I love to get all holly jolly up in here.

So I really WANT to be happy. And I think I can be happy this year. I just need a little Christmas cheer, that’s all. Because I don’t have our tree up yet (we only just got back from our Atlanta a few days ago). But I would bet my last candy cane that I’ll feel much much better once we do. MUCH better. And when we go to see the local Christmas lights show, I’ll simply ooze with yuletide glee. And then I’ll make some sugar cookies (and stuff my face with half the batch), pour myself a hearty glass of wine, haphazardly toast my fantabulously over-decorated tree and fricking CRANK those Christmas tunes… (Mmmmm, Christmas with the Carpenters. That Karen, she has got a voice of an angel, I tell you….)

That’s called COPING, people.

Really though, I just need to learn to do things differently this year. I need to work around the loss. Not ignore it. Just acknowledge that its there, maybe drop a little tinsel on it, offer it a spot near the tree and hand it over a cup of rum-soaked eggnog. There’s no other way around it – grief and loss will just have to be part of the… er… festivities.

So, here’s where I pull myself up by my Christmas stockings and get on with it.

Right?

Just get on with it.

Ching ching ching.

Deck those halls.

Feel the spirit.

Ok.

….ok.

(And here’s a little Christmas diddy for my mom from Karen herself…)