Forgeting Christmas

Not a cheerful Christmas tale (fiction)

~*~Forgeting Christmas~*~

         Christmas stung of bad memories. No one cared for December 25th anymore. The home had a resounding pain within it like that of a toothache.

         It hade been three years since dad's passing on Christmas Eve, but during the holidays, it seemed like just yesterday. Fresh memories flooded in like tidal waves, bringing misery and a yearning for him to be home again.

         Hanging lights and decorations was always his favorite pastimes during the holidays. Now the house was drowned in darkness. No one would even consider hanging a wreath, let alone string up twinkling lights and hand painted Christmas cards.

         My sister was seventeen the year we lost our dad, so by the next Christmas, she had already moved away and refused to come back for holiday visits. No one could blame her really. She had her own family by then and they made her holidays happier occassions.

         I, unfortunately, was just thirteen and still had many more years until I could do the same. On one hand, I felt like I couldn't wait for the years to pass, on the other, I knew my mom needed someone around, not just during the holidays, but everyday. She often told me, in her darkest moments, I was her only reason to get up and out of bed every morning. Now who could run away after hearing that?

         Except for my sister, everyone tried gathering together and celebrating that first year after dad's passing, but it ended in more of a wake for a funeral rather than laughter and gift giving and enjoying one anothers company. While everyone else was celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, our family mourned the loss of a loved one.

         What made the pain the most unbearable, by far, was the fact that every Christmas since, we get cards, dozens of them, from the family of the drunk driver who had taken our father's life that Christmas Eve. Apologies and condolences, all reminders, especially for my mother, who had sent him out that night for eggnog. She has blamed herself and feels so much guilt that he was lost to us because she needed that eggnog, it was simply a must needed addition to the celebration. Now she was having to deal with a life without her husband and us without a father.

         Just knowing the person who took our loved one is still walking this Earth, enjoying his family every Christmas, makes it that much harder to forgive and in turn, celebrate. We know dad wouldn't want us to be like this, especially during the holidays, but dad was more of a forgiving man than anyone I knew and that was what made it harder to accept and do.

         By the second Christmas, we had donated everything that dealt with the holiday to various, out of town organizations. Mom had even decided to sell the Grand Piano that dad played Christmas music on every year, beginning December 1st. I had begged her to at least keep that in rememberance, but it was to no avail. No one would dare play a note on it, so it was felt that it deserved to be somewhere it would be used. Mom ended up selling it to a local church, of course one we were not members of.

         What mom never saw though, was that I would run my fingers softly over the keys, every chance I could get. It, to me, was my only connection to my dad since his passing and it was something we spent time doing together when he was still around. It had been the only thing in the house that he had cherished. The piano was supposed to become a family heirloom, since my granddad had made it for my dad shortly before his own passing. But it was too much of a painful reminder to mom for it to stay anywhere within the family, just like all the other Christmas stuff.

         Living in a small town like we did had its advantages, especially during the holidays. Everyone knew everyone and our story was about the saddest of the discussions all over town. By the second Christmas, everyone pretty much knew what to expect from our family and in turn, we knew where to stay away from and where we would be welcomed without the constant reminders of the holiday approaching. No one wished us a Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays and didn't expect any warm wishes in return. It just became a habit that no one was ever willing to break.

         So as the third Christmas approaches, the further our family seeps into the silent nights. No carolers to stand on our lawn, singing their praises. No flashing, twinkling lights around the trimmings of our house, like all the neighbors. No Christmas party invitations or Christmas church plays and definately, no eggnog by a roasting fire. We even placed a hold on the mail until after the holidays ended. The less we see of Christmas, the better we can deal with the loss and pain. We just stay locked in the dark silence of our home, fooling ourselves.