Shitty Christmas

3 years ago, my mom died on December 22. It was a total blur. What Christmas? My daughter and niece wore their Christmas dresses to the funeral. Merry Fucking Christmas. 

Christmas 2019 marked the one year anniversary of my mom's death. Oh, and I was about 2 1/2 months post Achilles rupture. The entire family gather together, which was nice. At the start of the Christmas Eve dinner my father tried to say the Our Father (in Polish). He couldn't finish it...my sister did. Lots of tears. That Christmas sucked too...a part of us was missing. 

Christmas 2020 was a very Merry Covid Christmas. My dad joined me, Steve, and the kids. It was a quiet Christmas. A very white Christmas, which was nice. But very mellow.

And Christmas 2021? Well, Steve was isolating in Cancun, while the kids and I were home. Merry Fucking Christmas.

Isn't the Christmas season supposed to be filled with joy and cheer? Lately, Christmas seasons have been filled with sorrow and sadness and lots of tears. 

***

Steve bid December to have the last couple of weeks off. When his schedule came out and he got some time off, we decided to take a quick trip to Cancun before Christmas. Because, why not?! 5 days in the sun sounded perfect. 

We stayed at the new Hilton Cancun All-Inclusive. It was nice. The room was nice. The view was nice. The food was good. The booze was top shelf. All good...

we took a snorkel trip right from the hotel 
It was such a great time!

...until it was time to get our antigen tests to get back into the country. We needed to test negative 24 hours before our re-entry into the states.

The kids and I tested negative. All clear.

Steve, not so much. He tested positive. (for the record, he is vaxxed and boosted, as am I. His symptoms were mild). Fuck. 

I could go on and on about the story, but I'll spare you. Bottom line is that Steve had to stay in isolation at the hotel while the kids and I went home. 

We spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day apart. This is not how we thought the vacation would end. 

taking a super early flight out meant no lines.
It was actually really nice,
since I've only known CUN to be crazy busy with long lines

Christmas Eve is the most cherished part of the Christmas season. I couldn't even bring myself to eat Christmas Eve dinner at the dining room table with the china. I went through the motions, for the kids, but my heart was so hurt. I made dinner. I cried the whole time I was setting the table. It's tradition to set an extra setting at the table, to honor a loved one no longer here, or to welcome a wayward traveler...this year was so on-point that I couldn't help but cry as I set Steve's plate. Steve timed his room service with our dinner, and we ate together via FaceTime. I prepared a tradition Polish Wigilia, while he dined on fish tacos. 

Christmas morning the kids opened gifts, while Steve watched on FaceTime. 

Steve did make it home, eventually. The kids made signs to welcome him home. We greeted him at the airport curb. I was crying, of course, as I saw him walk out of security. It was so good to have him home. I haven't had a homecoming like that in a long time...probably since my Peace Corps days. 

As Steve's isolation story was developing, I was hearing more and more about other people's screwed-up Christmas. Many people had covid. Many people had to cancel or postpone plans. This idea of a perfect Christmas was fucked up for a lot of people,

Truth be told, after the last three years I''ve grown quite frustrated with this whole perfect Christmas crap. There is this idea that people are happy and having parties with awesome meals and awesome drinks and perfect Christmas cookies and gathered with family and wearing matching pjs and everything is right and perfect in the world. Snow is falling, carolers are singing, people kiss under the mistletoe....

When in actuality, Christmas is a really hard time for a lot of people. It can be rather stressful, buying gifts, maybe going into debt to do so, preparing the home, planning meals, dealing with family members you may not get along with. Maybe you are no longer with your spouse. Maybe your spouse is 1,500 miles away in another country. Maybe you buried a parent that year and are missing them terribly. Maybe you're depressed. Maybe you're stressed about money. I could go on.

We all set our expectations of this idyllic Christmas, this perfect day with perfect people and perfect presents and perfect togetherness. The standard is put so high for this perfect day and there is little margin for error. 

I think Steve is mostly recovered from being away. During the thick of things, he vowed not to bid any Caribbean overnights. But, he's already picked up a trip with an Aruba overnight, and he's bidding Caribbean overnights in February. When I ask the kids about Steve's absence at Christmas, they tell me it was just like he was on a trip. Essentially, no big deal. This makes me happy...I went through the motions enough at home that the kids didn't really feel any missed beats. This is where being a kiddo of an airline pilot worked in their favor. 

When Steve did get home, I felt this urge to keep celebrating the Christmas season. After all, Christmas is the birth of Christ, and according to the Catholic Church the Christmas season actually starts on December 25th....not November 1st like retailers want you to think. After Steve got back we were still listening to Christmas music, and watching Christmas movies. 

One night I was settling into bed, and Steve came up after a bit. He told me he went outside and took a little walk...just to look at the Christmas lights in the neighborhood. He shared this with a frog in his throat. The experience gave him a new view of things...things that were often overlooked before.

Two weeks into January and our Christmas tree was still up. Her name is Noel, and she is mighty and beautiful. With this Christmas being so fucked up, I wanted her joy to keep streaming in the house. 

She's now at the curb, waiting for the city recycling program to pick her up. Our house is back to normal with only a couple lighted trees left in the dining room. I'll keep those up all winter, however. As the marks of this Christmas have left the house and been stored away, so has the ache of missing Steve at Christmas. The heart does heal. 

And frankly this is just further validation that Steve made the right move with not upgrading to captain. Having him home for holidays right now is so much more important than a extra stripe and a tanned left arm. We've dealt with that before, and it's just not worth it to us.

If you had a perfect Christmas this year, I'm happy for you. Cherish it. Hold it close to your heart. 

And if you had a shitty Christmas this year, join the club. I feel you. 

Next year, I vow to not fall into the mindset of needing to have a perfect Christmas. I vow to enjoy one moment at a time, as they come to me. I vow to take in the little things, and hold them close to my heart.