It used to be my favourite day of the year, alongside my birthday of course!
It always meant great food, presents, midnight mass with the family, presents, oh and did I mention, presents!
As I got into my teens it meant seeing my parents putting aside their sometimes months long fighting to be civil with each other for the 'festive' period and that in itself was a present enough for me.
My twenties were of course a time to party with my friends and Christmas Eve, Day, Boxing Day, New Year's Eve, New Year's Day (you get the picture...) were just an excuse, if we needed one, to get drunk and have fun!
Losing my dad when I was 27 however changed everything Christmas meant to me.
It just seemed to bring back memories of his larger than life character and my mother has since then never celebrated Christmas at home again. It was left to my sisters to carry the torch of big Christmas dinners and to be honest, it's just not the same.
My thirties were a blur of marriage, 3 children and the end of my marriage.
Christmases were quiet family affairs with my wife and kids with most, if not all Christmas Eves with me away at work.
Presents were by now, only for the kids.
Christmas dinners were all bought.
And church was just too much of a hassle with 3 constantly fighting boys in tow.
Try as I might, I could never replicate for my children the euphoria of what Christmas used to mean to me. And raising them on my own these past 3 years have made it even more difficult for me to 'find' the Christmas spirit with me away at work on Christmas eve and they asleep when I get back.
Ironically, I realized that Christmas should be more about Jesus' birth and his sacrifice for us about the same time I kind of lost my faith.
Celebrating the birth of a 'kid with a magnifying glass over an ant hill' when you're the ant felt too much like rubbing salt in my own wounds, if you ask me.
I keep up appearances for my children's sake and of course the tradition of presents for them.
Anything to keep them happy and distracted from the fact they have only one parent is my present to myself.
So here we are, on my 41st Christmas Eve. Going for dinner at my sister's place.
My mother has locked herself in her room, not speaking to me and is refusing to attend.
Same shit, different year; only turn up the hypocrisy level, thank you very much.
So, Merry Christmas?
Yeah, whatever Santa fuck face...
It's sad to read this but I know it's from your heart.
ReplyDeleteThinking of you and sending love your way.
Bro, I know what you mean by that and it's the same for me. Come to think of it, I never really had a great Christmas before. But hard as it might, being the only parent you got to do the best that you can and that is the only thing that matters.
ReplyDeleteDespite all that, I will still want to wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year