Dear Mom it is Christmas Eve already

Dear Mom it is Christmas Eve already

When I was young I spent every Christmas Eve with my Dad. Coming from a broken family earns you an entire set of traditions all your own. My sister and I would go over to my grandparents house and do the whole dinner/gift thing. I spent Christmas Eve in the very same house with the very same people for 30 years. When I got divorced my Ex accommodated me by extending this tradition to my daughter. Christmas Eve with her Mom then Christmas morning waking up with her Dad.

My Dad would pick me up and I would hug and kiss you, say Merry Christmas and head out over the river and through the woods to grandma’s house. There we would chew on a candy cane eat some Christmas cookies hug relatives you only see twice a year and wait for dinner. Grandma made the greatest dinners. There were certain things you could always count on. Mashed potatoes and corn, I like them both, next to each other on the plate with lots of butter. Hot rolls right out of the oven smothered with butter, sprinkled with honey. I have tried many rolls since but I have never found rolls just like those.

To this day I still keep a good supply of honey in the house. Not because I use it often, but because of the memories it pulls up. Claire has often declared toast and honey as one of her favorite breakfasts. I wonder what she will remember about honey? The regular dishes were there but I could fill up on mashed potatoes and corn. The only reason to leave any room in your stomach was for pie. My grandfather loved pie. No occasion was finished until you broke out the pie. To this day if I eat pumpkin, apple, rhubarb, pecan or peach pie the standard I use to measure them is grandma’s pie.

After dinner we would open presents. When I was young that meant a present from everyone there. Later years we drew names, which made it much easier. Hopefully someone got a game or something so we would not be bored once the gifts were gone. And there was always the requisite number of sweaters, scarves and new socks.

When I arrived home you would be there. The TV would be on, often a bottle of wine open in the kitchen. You would hug us and ask us what we got. We would break open our presents and show you the cool or pretty lame gifts. In later years there was much laughter to be had, teasing our absent relatives about their choice of gifts.

There were years when I was older I knew you were going out with someone, friends, a boy friend or a party somewhere. I always felt better if I knew you were out. I didn’t want you to spend Christmas Eve alone.

When my Ex picked up Claire that very first Christmas apart I suddenly had a new respect for what you had gone through. I was alone in the house on Christmas Eve. I had not planned anything. I needed to be home later when Claire was dropped off. I opened up a bottle of wine, broke out some cheese and crackers, turned on I’ts a Wonderful Life and settled in for a nice evening at home. Sitting in my chair in front of the Christmas tree I tried to treat it like any other evening without my daughter. But I could not. I kept remembering you waving goodbye as we got in Dad’s truck.

I knew what you went through then, and you did a great job of not letting your kids know exactly what it felt like. But as I faced the epiphany of exactly what was going through your mind it was different. I felt a little selfish. Why had I not done more when I had the chance? You would just remind me I was the kid and you were the parent. Some burdens are not for kids to carry. However the saddest part of the whole event was not that I was sad for myself. Though I was certain this might have been one of the saddest moments in my life. But I was sad for a mother staying at home alone, all those years ago.

We had some great times through the years. You would think it was good enough times to make up for any number of Christmas Eves alone. But at that moment, none of those other moments mattered.

Love Mike