Ghosts of Christmas

Through the years I have managed to get through day by day without thinking of anything related to the family.  Yes, there were times were certain things raised their ugly head but for the most part-I managed to smile.

Now, it was different.  I have been seized by the ghosts of Christmas past.  Memories of happier times bring tears to my eyes.  Those people no longer exist.  I wait for a glimmer of those ghosts to materialize but they do not.  Sadly, those people have turned into greedy selfish people.  The only care they have is the money-inheritance. 

I close my eyes to listen to the sounds as they play in my head.  The laughter of everyone as they put things together for Christmas; the grumbling of Dad as he examined each light bulb to make sure it lit; the smells coming from the kitchen as holiday treats were being baked or cooked; the smell of cinnamon in the air. I remember placing “footprints” in the sand of the Nativity behind the figurines; Dad coming over to smooth out the sand.  The season was really more his season than anyone I knew then.  What I most remember is the wonderful smell of the pine tree. 

The scene dissolves and another takes its place.  One of a snow covered valley with deer carefully making their way across.  It was a trip we had taken to Utah.  It was a very cold day; my daughter was young-6 yrs old I think.  She ran out into the field and suddenly-she disappeared!  My heart raced and I tried not to panic.  The snow was soft still as it was fresh fallen.  It made running a little difficult as you sank with each step.  I found the spot and I lay on the ground to reach her.  She was down too far-the snow was deep.  The fortunate thing was that there were some skiers who had witnessed the fall into the snow; they arrived to help as tears were falling down my face.  I was in a full blown panic.  They pulled my daughter out of that hole.  I am forever grateful to them. 

Breathing deeply, a certain memory comes up of five sisters walking in the mall.  Three in high school and two in college-all dressed alike.  I remember thinking “We must look like spoiled brats!” We all wore dark blue jeans, white shirts, white tennis shoes and the ever present designer bags. We did not walk in a group but rather in a line, people made way for us.  This memory is one of the few I have of my sisters.  I smile as it was a good day.

Another scene quickly takes its place.  This time it is my Mother-waiting for her children to arrive.  She waited a long time-not too different from the way Dad did in the year before his death.  The sounds of their crying between the looks they gave to the things around them.  I hated them then-now I just pity them.  As pictures fading with time-they too faded away. 

Where did they go?  What happened?  I have no idea.  The loss I am feeling is tremendous-a bottomless abyss.  A blanket of insurmountable sadness wraps itself around me.

The house is dark with no holiday lights, no wreath-no Christmas tree.  Holiday music is not allowed to be played as it only adds to the sadness; the bitterness in the air is tangible-thick.  I am alone waiting for my turn to fade.

©MSM DECEMBER 2013