This Christmas that Almost Was?

I had intentions of making up for the lost Christmas that followed Mom's death late last November. On the first, I bought baking supplies to make cookies, candy cane bark, and pumpkin walnut bread to send off to my sister and niece. I pulled the storage bin full of Christmas stuff out of its corner in the storage room downstairs, and vowed to go back for the decorations later, after pulling out a box of cards and a stuffed tabletop tree.

While waiting for class to start on Monday and Wednesday night, I addressed the Christmas card envelopes and signed the cards, intending to write my usual letters later. Thursday, standing in a cold laundry (because our dryer stopped working), I downsized those intentions and just wrote brief comments on the inside covers of the cards before stopping on the way home to mail them. (I did, however, make the trip to buy the special Christmas stamps for the envelopes. )

Yesterday, I finished my sister's gift, a beaded wind chime, and then sat wondering about my niece's gift. (Normally both get something handmade from me.) I am still at a loss on that, and am wondering if I should forego her gift completely, hating the idea of just sending money no matter how appealing that idea would be to her. Reflecting on past money gifts, it is rare that I can recall what I got with such gifts, though I can remember the source of every tangible gift received. Is it truly only the thought that counts? I don't think I believe that to be true.

As I try to muster up the gumption to carry through with my intentions to make this a Christmas my mother would be pleased about, it occurs to me that it has really always been about my mom. Christmas was her favorite holiday, and she began celebrating it the day after Thanksgiving and kept it up until the day before New Year's Eve (when all evidence of the holiday had to be tucked away out of sight). When we entered her apartment the day she died, it was all decorated in its full splendor -- she had no less than five decorated trees in her one bedroom apartment, counting those on tables and counters.

Yes, I have to admit that everything I did in past Christmas's was done so I could dutifully report to Mom, adding to her pleasure in the season. Now that the reports aren't needed any longer, I just am not motivated. So, this could very well be the Christmas that almost was -- after all, that stuffed tree is sitting in my living room next to the fireplace that displays our received cards.

Perhaps I will go back to that Christmas storage bin and pull out a few candles to set in the fireplace. Then again, I cannot recall the last time we actually used our living room.

I guess I will just have to wait and see if that spirit of Christmas moves me or lies dormant with Mom's ashes.

For now, I am going to wish anyone that reads this a VERY MERRY Christmas, with the jing, jing, jingling of Rudolph's rein bells and Burl Ives' "Holly, Jolly Christmas" in my ears.


Burl Ives - A Holly Jolly Christmas - Natale - YouTube