A Victory After 17 Years

This is the first Christmas that I do not feel sad.

This is the first Christmas that I am not dreading.

This is the first Christmas that I might even be looking a little bit forward to this Sunday.

A Victory after 17 years.

Mama's death on Christmas Day 1994 seemed to forever change my view of the holidays.  But the writing I did last year to process the annual flashbacks for her 3 1/2 day coma leading up to her death on Christmas has seemed to help.  I don't have to relive those dark days at Dominican.  I have commemorated her life and her death in the best way I know how:  to write.

I think Mama would be proud.

I have lagged behind the others who seemed to move on much sooner than me.  Randy still confesses to feeling some melancholy during the season, but he still enjoys the moment and life and juggles his plans with us and the oodles of friends he needs to have a reunion with each time he is in town.

Rhonda has always made Christmas magical for her children.  Her boys are now grown, but her young daughter is only 10, and so their house still becomes Toyland this time of year.  Rhonda also has an ever growing collection of Christmas decorations from Christmas Angels to Black Santas to handcrafted wooden Santa decorations she finds around town in treasure shops.

Dad seemed to move on 11 years ago when he married into a very large family that has grown in numbers to include even more great grandkids.  Christmas is big with this family, and they now hold a huge party at the Club House at his mobile home park.  Last year, the party was held the day after Christmas, and I almost did not feel up to celebrating one extra day after already surviving the anniversary of my mother's death.

As I watched generations of my stepmother's family open up their gifts, I remember saying to myself:  "I can't be around so much happiness."  It was in that moment of revelation that I finally figured out why Christmas has been so hard for me for so many years.  Yes, it definitely has been hard to be around "so much happiness" when in my heart, I am mourning my mother all over again.

But I feel the annual mourning to be a little lighter this year and a little more happiness inching back in each day.

The holidays are approaching, and I am not dreading them.  I am not waiting for them to be over so I can breathe again.  I will get through with more smiles than tears this year.

A Victory after 17 years.

In Memory of Mama



In Spirit

The first anniversary of Mama's passing on Christmas Day 1994 was rapidly approaching, and the rest of the family decided to go to Disneyland.  Maybe the Magic Kingdom could magically wipe out their flashbacks of that sorrowful day.

But I instinctively knew I needed to stay home ~ that I was at risk for getting the holiday blues ~ and I did not want my young nephews to see me crying in front of Mickey Mouse.

So I relived all of our family traditions ~ all alone ~ in 1995.

First, I went off to mass at Resurrection Parish in Aptos.  I have never been good at using matches, and I fumbled around the candles trying to light a candle for my beloved mother. 

Mama always like to see the humor in our imperfect lives, and instead of sending out bragging types of Christmas letters, she would type of a laundry list of everything that had gone wrong that year from another car crash by my younger brother to their shock of my dating an older man at only age 18.

The signs of Mom's humor would soon fill my Christmas spent alone.

As the mass was getting underway, I suddenly heard a big swoosh and looked back to see a foot and a half flame spiking up from the little candle I had lit a few minutes ago.  No one else seemed to notice, but I knew it was a sign from Mom that she was here with me in spirit.  I did not want to douse the candle, so I decided to have a little chat with Mom.

"Okay, Mom," I laughed inside, "I see your sign.  Now just don't burn down the church!" 

The candle soon resumed its tiny flicker.

After church, I headed to Cafe Rio, her favorite beach side restaurant.  I sat alone at a tiny table, enjoying my Chicken Teriyaki and Sprite and peeking at the waves crashing along Seacliff Beach.

I then drove around town looking at all the beautiful Christmas lights just like we always did in Christmases Past with the entire family. 

I slept in my old room above the garage, looking out at the M & M Candy Christmas lights decorated in the shape of a tree that I could not bear to take down last year.  My clock radio played Christmas Carols in the background as I drifted in and out of sleep, remembering the woman who gave birth to me and who left my side on Christmas Day.

Christmas Day was peaceful and quiet, a day full of reflection and loaded with memories of Mom and Dad being young and all of us kids being so little.  I had invitations to visit Mom's cousins and my Great Aunt Pearlie in town, but I wanted to be alone this Christmas except for a few phone calls to Nanny, my aunt and uncle, and assorted cousins.

At just after 2 p.m., the phone rang.  My family was on the phone all the way from Disneyland.  I spoke to Dad, my brother Randy, my sister Rhonda, and her two sons, Josh and Cameron.  While juggling the phone, I opened up an extra gift they left me beneath the miniature tree we had in the living room because big trees were too sad for Dad then. 

As I hung up the phone, I remembered another call I received just after 2 p.m. on Christmas Day.  Dad had called me tearfully from Dominican at exactly the same time one year ago to tell me that our beloved mother had died. And in that bittersweet moment, I truly knew that Mom was there in spirit all over again ~ helping us stay connected as a family ~ despite the sadness we still felt ~ as we tried to carry on in the way she would have wanted ~ to enjoy holidays to the fullest ~ and to make Christmas magical for her beloved grandsons.

Sweet Mama Who Loved Christmas