A HARD AND HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVE

Photo: "Winter 2013"
By Skitch

NOW:

Journal Entry

Tonight I saw my grand kids. I was in a store, just placing items on the counter to be rang up, and then I saw that the mom and two kids in front of me was my step-daughter and my grand children. I waited to catch one of the kiddos eyes. Knowing that my step-daughter would not meet my gaze, would not smile at me, or say hello, I focused on the little ones. When my grand daughter looked at me I smiled and said, "Merry Christmas. I love you." She looked away quickly, and she and her mom and brother, finished with their shopping now, left in a hurry. I thought perhaps she had not heard me. I called after them, "Merry Christmas. I love you!" They rushed away. I must admit it knocked my heart for a loop. I've been through it before, people that used to love me, that I still love, ignoring me. But somehow I thought these innocent and bright eyed little guys would always love me and respond to me with joy, whether their mother liked it or not. My heart was broken, but I tried to hold back the tears. The clerk looked at me oddly, no doubt wondering why I was calling, "I love you," at complete strangers in a check out line. 

I made my purchases and got outside before the first tear fell. I cried through the three parking lots I had to cross to get back to my car. At first I wondered, "Could they really have forgotten me?" No! Surely not! "What did she have to tell them to get them to ignore me?" I was suddenly so miserable that I just wanted to go home and cancel Christmas. Worse, I wanted to go home, and crawl into bed, and not sleep, and not think, and not eat, and not drink, and not breathe. But I knew, because I've been down this road before, that not breathing is not an option. I cannot ever put those that do love me through that. I cannot ever give the signal that giving up is acceptable. 

I almost called my husband, but I didn't want to bring my sorrow into his world. He is out of town, working on a car for our oldest son, giving everything he has to give (time, money, energy) to one of our children. I did not think I should share this pain with him and distract him when our son needed him. I started to call my sister, who is going through such similar pain with her own family, and then I imagined her happily spending time with our parents. I did not want to rain on that parade. My middle son was at work in a store nearby. I thought, "Maybe I'll just go talk to him." Liam is an adult now and very understanding about pain. He always says the right thing to put life into perspective. But he was working. I thought of my oldest son who also gives sage advice and manages to make me see the world at a new and better perspective. But Cozy was working on the car with my husband. No way to contact one without alarming the other, and they were busy. My best friend Mary was at work. I took a deep, painful sigh. Suddenly I felt the need to hash this out for myself. So, I went through, in my mind, what my husband might say, what my sister would likely tell me if I were to call her, what Liam, and Co, and Mary might advise. I wiped the tears from my face, and I realized that what my step-daughter may have told them did not matter, if they had forgotten me even that did not matter. What mattered was that I do not forget them, and that I survive this pain, and all pain, with every bit of strength and dignity I can muster. I knew then that I could look at this two ways: 

"My Christmas is ruined because it's painfully clear now that even my sweet, and innocent, and joyful grand kids have been turned against me."

OR

"The best gift I got for Christmas 2013 was a peek at the two kiddos dearest to my heart. I got to see my grand kids that I haven't seen but once in the last two years. What an unexpected Christmas blessing!"

I think I'll go with door number two, and I'll be grateful for those two precious children that I will love with every beat of my fierce heart, and be grateful for all those that are subject to my stubborn adoration, and for the ones that see my love as something to be sought instead of shunned (what blessings, what miracles they are!) and be grateful for those I could have called but didn't. Just think, their good advice has been there for me so many times that I can just about guess what they would say. Time after time, gift after gift, their words and encouragement have been there for me.

Merry Christmas to you and yours. I hope you are as blessed as I am.