Ghosts of Christmas Past - Part 1

Part One: Family Christmas

I am the youngest of 7.  Growing up my house was crazy all of the time.  We had 10 people in our household.  I admit it, I was spoilt.  We had tons of presents under the freshly cut tree. To this day I do love entering a house with a real tree and white lights and personal ornaments.  Our entire house was filled with a million decorations, white candles in every window, knick-knackery everywhere.  So many stockings filled with oranges, nuts, trinkets and pez on the mantle.  

My mother although never diagnosed was likely bipolar. I was a kid, and I didn’t know anything about that, besides it was the 70s, so not many people did.  Christmas was a time to let her full load of mania out and shining for all the world to see.  In December our house was a magic Christmas factory.  We made cookies and ornaments by the score, snowmen out of coffee cans, clothes pin reindeer, angels, sequins and beads and glitter on all of the things, candles and bows.  No idle hands always something to make, always something to do to the sounds of Bing Crosby.  Making Christmas, the most wonderful time of the year!

I think her favorite thing was to make flower arrangements.  For Christmas this meant cutting back every fur tree in the neighborhood and transforming it into  door wreaths, centerpieces, and decorative candles surrounded by holly. She was always looking on county roads for unprotected holly bushes that we would conduct midnight raids on and fill her trunk full of the festive foliage.  My mom would roust me from bed in the dark of the night to be her accomplice.  I thought it was wrong and was terrified we would get caught, but not as afraid enough to talk back when my mom donned her work gloves and pruning tools.  It was a bleary eyed silent terror get scratched up by holly leaves loading up the trunk. It was thrilling and we never got caught, but we did destroy some holly bushes.

My mom grew up on a farm in appalachian Tennessee.  She was pretty gifted at making all sorts of things, and a lot of them were gorgeous.  When our house was full to the brim with all shapes and sizes of Christmas spirit it was time to get rid of it all.  We would give gifts to the mailman, neighbors, teachers, anyone on the streets with elaborate creations of greenery, candles, ornaments and cookies.  She thought everyone deserved a little cheer. It was fun.

My brothers and sisters were all 12-17 years older than me. In a lot of ways Christmas was about me.  But I didn’t really care about gifts, I loved that they would come home and we would all be together.  My parents each had three kids from their first marriages, so I was the one thing the family had in common and I really loved them.   I don’t think they ever really liked each other much so there was a lot of drinking and mild mannered put downs to full on wrestling matches, I think there was a fist fight one year.  Oh the Christmas revelry.   

We had a fireplace, and we had a fire almost every night.  I think this was my favorite things about winter. But not at Christmas.  On Christmas Eve my brothers would grab a hatchet or small saw and the fire pokers and act out for me how they would lay wait for Santa and attack and kill him when he came down the chimney.  I would cry in horror, but they would assure me it was too late, he was already en route. Then the would don their weapons and run through all the ways to torture Saint Nick.   When I was crying like the baby I was a my mom would come down and get furious.  She was pretty scary when she was mad, so no more tears and no more shenanigans.  When it was time for me to go to bed we would leave out cookies and milk.  One brother would inevitable swipe a cookie, shove it in their mouth grinning and make a throat cutting motion behind her back.  I would try to hear when Santa came to warn him.

Of course the next day I would creep out of bed not sure what I would fine, the whole room would be full of presents.   I was never one to keep my mouth shut if I was not under mom threat.  I would wake the entire house way too early with squeals of delight in my Christmas jammies and robe.    Really it was crazy, one year we got an air hockey table. Another year, I got a mini pin ball machine from my dad. That was my favorite gift ever. Presents were they typical fair, slippers, perfume, bubble bath and clothes.   My mom wrapped them in amazing bows with toys and flowers and birds. Admiring the package was sometimes the best part.

My brothers looked really really tired as they made their bleary way to the coffee pot and sat around opening presents listlessly.  I would squeal and jump on them. I would try to be as magical as I could and make everyone smile.  I had differing results. I didn’t realize at the time I was probably annoying as all get out, but I kind of laugh looking back.

My mom loved presents, but she also saw in value system.  I think mostly Christmas day was a journey from mania into depression. I mean, I get it, the thing is done and here and what do you have to look forward to now?  Plus she had a house full of hungover young adults who were miserable and just waiting to leave after all that effort she put in to make some Christmas magic.  People are generally ungrateful.

My mom would save her presents in a stack.  She would evaluate the thought you put into presents and let you know if she felt loved or not.  It really sucked if she felt the gorgeous amethyst chenille robe you got her after petting it in the store like the most magical of things, was hideous and meant that you were cheap and obviously didn’t care about her at all and should be mocked for years.  When I was very young though, my dad lead me to many home runs with silk scarves and Opium perfume.  Winning Christmas was pretty awesome. Picking out gifts became pretty stressful though.

My parents separated when I was 11.  My mom and I moved a few hours away from Maryland to Pennsylvania.  It was a pretty ugly divorce and now I had two Christmas’s separated by a 2 hour drive where my parents would talk about how much they hated the other.   Luckily we had music and I would turn up the radio for some epic holiday singalongs.  We needed a little Christmas right that very moment. Music is how we always made things better.

My 13th Christmas, my mom was at working the night shift in a sewing factory and I was on the phone with a friend waiting for my dad to come get me.  They usually met half way and he was never happy to have to make the entire drive both ways.   The weird neighbor kid came running toward the window I was seated at looking for my dads car.  It was fully the 80s because I remember red plaid shirt, cinched with a huge belt, a mini skirt and heels.  The weird kid, didn’t come to the door but  knocked on the window frantically pantomiming.  I went outside without my coat to see what the fuss was about. He told me, that some old man said he was my dad and hit a tree around the corner.  It was snowing and about foot of snow was already on the ground.  I just went running up the hill and around the bend behind the boy.  

We lived in the country so..it was about a half mile. I fell a few times as I slipped up hill in a panic. My dad’s car was totaled and wrapped around a tree, the hood tented and engine steaming.  My dad was pinned in his car and bleeding from the head.  He was trying to smile tell me he was ok, but he was in a lot of pain and he couldn’t get the words out.  The road to my house winded by a creek and it took forever for the ambulance to arrive.  I was terrified.  I just kissed my dad’s head and whispered to him as people started to circle around us not sure what to do. They just looked at me shivering and helpless until the firemen and paramedics arrived.

Later at the hospital my mom got in my dad’s face and smuggled issued some sort of insult with a smile on her face.  She was kind of mean like that.  I think my dad actually tried spit at her although he couldn’t move. He never told me what she said, so I guess that is a blessing.  His head was covered in bandages and he had stitches in his nose. My strong dad looked so weak but he was determined to get out in less than a week.  It was the first of many Christmas I would ultimately spend in the hospital with my dad.  My mom wouldn’t let me stay at the hospital with him, so I made him a teddy bear that looked like him with bandaged his head, and the bridge of his nose.  The bear was so that he would know I loved him even if I was not there.  He kept it for years.  

My mom died when I was 14.  It was a particularly horrible year.  My sister Kathy lived with me to finish out the school year.  That summer I was sent to live with my brother Robin at the beach.  He wasn’t handling my mom’s death very well and I was told to keep an eye on him so he wouldn’t commit suicide too.  I was 15 then, and as I was the only person living with my mom and clueless to save her, I guess I would get another swing at it.  He is still alive.  I am not sure that had anything to do with me. 

I grew up a lot that year, my brother and sister were going through a lot and pretty much let me roam free. Still the loss of our mom bonded the three of us. They were closest but they let me tag along for most everything. I spent all my vacations with them. They are a lot like my mom so being around them made me feel her loss less.

My sister sacrificed a lot for me when I was a kid.  She protected me from the worst sides of our mother.  She took me for the weekends when she was in her 20s and I a pre teen.  She always looked out for me and encouraged me to be myself and look people in the eye and shine.  She handled pretty much everything when mom died and it was not easy. I will be forever grateful for those years and the love my sister had for me even if a lot of it was terrible.

That first Christmas after losing our mom, my sister thought that the three of us should all go on a cruise to break routine and be together.  Robin thought this was a great idea and he got the tickets.  I got permission to go and had Christmas at my Dad’s early, on the 22nd.  I got everything that I wanted, a new bathing suit, lots of clothes for the cruise and a gift card to Tower Records. Cruise wear, I felt so sophisticated.  My dad took me to my sister’s on the 23rd.  My oldest brother Eddie was on leave from the Army and there for a few days with his wife.  Robin drove up on Christmas Eve, the night before the cruise.  I was so excited.  

When Robin arrived, I showed him my bounty of outfits.  He was kind of an outfit guy, and usually doted on me.  But he laughed and asked where I thought  I was going.  He got tickets for he and Kathy to go on the cruise.  They were 28 and 30 and they didn’t want their kid sister tagging along on their vacation.  And he laughed as my heart broke.  I never knew if Kathy knew before that moment, but this miscommunication was pretty epic. It was determined that there was no way to fix it.  

This was the year my sister let the disenfranchised teens hang at our house. It was cool because my mom didn’t really like me to have friends over.  My sister let all kinds of skaters and punks hang out.  These kids were the only people who could still talk to me after my mom died, and not treat me like a thing to be pitied.  They got it, life was happening to them as well.  I think Allen’s parents just left him and his sister at his Aunt’s one day and never came back.  We started hanging out when my sister took us all to a Depeche Mode concert.  He was at Christmas at our house that night.  Kathy and Robin left me alone to sob in my bed absorbing the unfairness of life alone. They thought I was acting like a baby about it. Kathy told me that I couldn't use my mom's death as a crutch for the rest of my life. I always have gotten my heart set on things. But as my sister will be the first to tell you, life isn't always fair. Allen came in and held me and rocked and sang me Three Little Birds.  It is my sweetest memory of that Christmas.

Eddie drove me home to my dad the next day.  Robin and Kathy had a great time on the cruise. When I got home my dad simply told me that we already had Christmas and the day passed like any other not special day.  I felt like I ruined Christmas for everyone.  I was selfish to break tradition, and now there was no Christmas for anyone. It didn't occur to me that no one cared, and maybe where even relieved. My brother Greg took me to Tower Records so I could get use my gift card and to the movies. This would be a new Christmas trodden. Never again would my family make a big deal out of Christmas. I don’t think we ever even got another real tree or listened to Bing Crosby.  It was just easier that way.  

Oh Lordy...40

Today is my 40^th birthday.  My whole life I wanted to be 40 I kind of thought it would be fabulous.  I am the youngest in my family, but a dozen years.  Being the baby has its perks but there are many times when…well ...you get treated like a baby.  You cannot do the things older people can do because you are too young.  Being the baby in a household of 10, this happens a lot. So I set my sights on being a real grown up.  FORTY! That would be something.

Honestly, I was all about this idea, until I turned 39.  Then I started to reconsider.  Forty seems like a big number.  I still feel twenty-seven. Overall I feel like I get a little better every year, I seek to improve and I was not particularly good at being young. Forty is definitely a milestone that makes you reflect on your life.  I have spent the past year and a half taking a step back and working on myself.  Stillness is very hard for me, I have been doing it.  Not liking it a lot, but doing it. Still, as forty approached I felt behind in my life.  I am single, I have no kids and I while I am employed I don’t really have the exciting fulfilling career I thought I might have.   Abundance seems to be lacking in my life in these core areas.  Also, instead of fabulous, forty feels like the gateway to old.

The truth is that I never thought I had to be married or have kids to be a success. So I find it odd that I would stress this.  I even doubted my ability to achieve success in these arenas.  Now, after lots of self-reflection and spiritual fitness I do feel like I can do these things and that I deserve this kind of love in my life.  I recognize that acknowledgement alone, is a kind of success.  I don't even know if I want the married with kids thing, but a partner to share life with sounds pretty amazing.  I figured out what I am good at and what I want to do as a career, I went back to school and got my degree last year.  I tried dating and job interviews which felt a lot like the same thing.  In this process all were close or really not close at all but none were right.  I took a break from having to sell myself and just chill for a bit. It was stressing me out.   I apparently have no idea how to get the things I now want, but I will be the best me I can and see what happens.  I ask the universe for guidance, but I think the universe might find my frustration amusing.  So here I am ready, and having no idea what to do next.  I will hold on to faith that it will all work out.

Someone recently told me that I have as much of a chance of getting married over 40 as getting struck by lightning.  Ha, thanks for the tip I guess.  What a ridiculous thing to say. Is that from a shitty movie or what?  But regardless of how trite and unnecessary I found that announcement, it still that made me feel behind.  When I go to events and I am the only single person there, I kind of notice now and it feels bad.  These didn’t happen before 39 and 10 months.  It’s weird.  I feel like.. oops I forgot to want the things that people want, I didn’t put it in a life plan and now I am doomed.  Ok ok ..that sounds funny even typing because at heart I am an eternal optimist.  Sure an at times dark and sarcastic eternal optimist.  But at my core I believe in possibility.  Right?  I am going to just try to remember what I though was so fabulous about forty for thirty-nine years.  I am sure it will come back to me.

When I look around I realize that while perhaps doomed in the love and career department, I am blessed in the friend department.  I know so many wonderful people, who I love and respect.  And they love me too.  Which I admit I think is kind of crazy, but it is a fact I have come to accept.  I hope this is because I am a wonderful person and a good friend too.  Still these people who I call friends are truly amazing and I am among the luckiest of people as a result.

My friend Shelley knowing that I was stressing turning 40 bought me 40 presents.  Each wrapped individually numbered and dated to be opened the 40 days up to my birthday.  This gift is beyond thoughtful.  I loved getting robot tea infusers and lots of scratch off tickets.  But more so I loved wondering what the next day would hold.  It made me realize that there is a gift in each day, and I should wonder that that gift is and look forward to it.  They will no longer come lovingly wrapped and numbered but every day has something to offer, but they are there if we don’t forget to notice.  As I try to not turn to depression at my lack of whatever, this message is so empowering.  I am grateful for the reminder, and it really has made me look at my life differently.

Today, I am spending my birthday in solitude. It is funny because I LOVE birthdays, and what I love about my birthday is getting to see my friends. I think everyone should eat food with their friends on their birthday and dance if they like to.  

 I was feeling ill, so yesterday I went to the doctor’s.  I have a respiratory infection and I am contagious I am supposed to rest through Thursday.  I got a Z pack and Gypsy Tea for my birthday.  I cancelled the small sushi dinner with friends at my favorite restaurant for tonight. It was suggested I move it to Thursday, but I was just too sad and tired to reschedule and it felt like I was being burdensome.  I decided to look forward to my party on Saturday and just take care of me now.  I slept a lot yesterday and today.

My friend Slim brought me a healthy dinner and a key lime pie last night.  I didn’t want to eat but I felt way better after doing so, and it was yum.  She is feeling a little ill herself so she felt it was ok to come over, feed me and spend some time visiting.  She wanted to check in and make sure I was ok.  It is nice to be cared for.

I woke up to many texts.  One was a video of my best friend since birth waking up her kids, who are really awesome, and them all wishing me happy birthday. Didi was a little confused about the word fortieth, I was like…I know me too, kiddo!  It was so cute and funny I don’t think I could feel bad after that.  The Chi’s are really THAT amazing.  My phone has been buzzing all day with love and care and people checking in on me, wishing me happiness, asking if I need anything and making me laugh.  One call was from Tiff’s Treats so someone ordered me cookies.  I wonder who?  Someone super nice!  

I did cry a little today but it is because I am overwhelmed when I realize how lucky I am and I am so grateful. Being sick and alone on my birthday doesn’t suck like I thought it would.  I got to do birthday laundry and eat birthday chicken noodle soup, and then I did birthday dishes.  It is a party over here., I am finding that putting birthday before a task makes me laugh about it. Birthday Nasal Rinse...don't mind if I do.   I have to experience stillness on my birthday and solitude but that doesn’t stop the love from reaching me.  I am truly happy.  Thank you, my friends.  Forty is feeling pretty damned good.

 

The Girl Who Cried "My Dad Is Dying"

I am going home on Tuesday to see my Dad.  He has been in hospice for over a year and outlived his hospice wing four times over.  He also survived an epidemic that wiped out the entire VA hospital less two people and other things over the years.   But I think he is getting old and tired of cheating death, or maybe he is just not able to for much longer. He has had cancer on and off for 10 years.  Now he has 5 kinds: colon, bladder, stomach, brain and blood cancer.  He might have more, I don’t think they are still checking. He also has had an aortal aneurysm that could have burst killed him at any moment for the past 7 or so years.  So far it has not.  He is 92 years old.

He has not walked for about a year and he refuses to do PT anymore.  He can barely eat or drink and sleeps like 20 hours a day. They no longer check his vitals every day, they are just keeping him comfortable.  As of this month there have been some updates.  He has recovered from the illness he had for a few months.  I think that getting sick allowed his cancers to spread, because it is exploding everywhere and eating him alive.   He is drinking and eating very little and has been put on an IV for hydration.  The heartbreaking part for me is in excruciating pain he is now in.  I hope morphine works REALLY well.  However, I doubt my dad is happiest being doped up.   Then again what the hell do I know he hasn’t been able to get out of bed for 15 months, maybe morphine rules?    My brother Nick visited last week and Dad told him he would be leaving there in a week or two.   That really struck me, because there is only one way out.  

He had what my brother Greg called, “a little stroke” this week and is paralyzed on the left side, but he could regain some movement.  How is that for an up side?  I talked to him on the phone he asked when I was coming, I said how about next week he said, “I think that would be really good.  Really. Good.”  Then we said our I love yous and he handed the phone back to Greg.  My boss is being VERY cool and understanding and encouraging for me to do what I think is right.  I stressed for a few days about what is the right thing to do.  How do you ever know?  I talked to the most amazing friends in the world about details with pets and places to stay and the what, when, where of possibilities.  I called the airline.  Ultimately, I decided to get my butt on a plane on Tuesday and get to Maryland.

Greg thinks it will be hard for me to see my dad doing so poorly to the point of discouraging my visit.  I appreciate as much as I hate my brother trying to protect me.   I am not afraid of seeing my very sick father.   I know it is not good. I know he has lost 25 pounds since I last saw him and he was tiny then. My being there for Dad when he is low, will not replace a lifetime of memories.  I don’t believe in the last image thing.  People overestimate the amount of visual information I take in all of the time. But I do know his eyes light up when he seems me and he smiles.  Whatever he gets out of that is worth it to me.   We have said everything there is to say and I am at peace with my dad and cherish our relationship no matter what happens.  At the same time I have more kisses and hugs to offer and my heart is full of love for my dad.

This is not the first time I have rushed home to see my dad.   There have been many low points and honestly he usually recoups a bit after my visits.  I do not think that will happen this time.  I am okay with that, I would never want to prolong his suffering.   This is not a panic, like the other visits.  I know I can do nothing and I am okay.   For the first time in my life I am not afraid my dad is going to die.  And my dad is going to die.

As long as I have been a semi grown up I have been afraid of my dad’s impending doom.  My dad is 15 years older than my mom.  I was an accident, an IUD failure, and my dad was 53 when I was born.  My mom was in her late 30s but having a baby at that age in the early 70s was not encouraged.  My parents each had three kids from previous marriages.  So  I have 7 half brothers and a sister who were teens when I was born.  I am the only child of thier marriage, and my dad's only daughter.    A happy accident it seems and the neighbors were amused they my parents painted the house shutters pink to announce my arrival to the world. 

My mother died when I was 14.  It was a suicide and it was quick.  I was devastated and angry.  I handled it by keeping people at arm’s length, including my dad. 

I was sarcastic and dry and alternative.  I can’t imagine I was a joy to be around but somehow my friends and family stuck by me and just kind of watched me go through it.   I am not thrilled at the fact that people insisted I was like Daria, but that gives you an idea of my demeanor.  But really don’t you want to be Jane? I did, but I was not.  Anyway, building my tough as nails stares and arsenal of sarcastic wit was my day job.

I could never sleep, so in the middle of the night I would take my comforter into the hallway outside of my dad’s door and I would listen to him snore.  I was always afraid he was going to die, I thought everyone I loved was going to die, but mostly my dad.  He was at the time in his almost 70.  I would stay there calmed by his loud crazy snores until I fell asleep.  I am still comforted by snoring, even my dad’s crazy erratic snoring from his hospital bed.

Around age 20, I let my guard down with my dad.  I took him out to dinner and apologized for being a horrible teenager.  I was beyond sassy and rude, I was disrespectful.  I was so angry.  This started a dialog and a relationship with my dad that we have built over all of these years.   I asked him about things I didn’t understand or felt cheated by and he addressed everyone one.  And he accepted my apology  and I his and we moved to the next level. 

Over the years I have told him things I wanted to protect him from about me, and he was never shocked or too disappointed.  When I thought I would freak him out by telling him the truths of my relationship he let me grieve a little while and then asked me directly what was going on.  When I told him cocked his head and said, “Peach, I am sorry but you definitely are my daughter.”  Then he told me many stories of his trials and tribulations of dating and marriage and lost loves.   He had been there and done that and shared his experience with me.    We might be a cursed people when it comes to love.  Ha.  But he advised me to not give up.  He also advised me, to avoid heartbreak, never get married or have kids, unless I get better at choosing.  Here is to hoping.

My dad has given me the skills to take care of myself.   He instilled in me an enviable work ethic and a deep appreciation for art, music and friendship.   I am forever grateful to know him as a friend and have him as my dad.   There was never a promise that things would be always good and shiny, but instead that we could get through whatever was dished out.  As a family we have never been at all emotional, really my mom had enough emotions for all 11 of us and they were all over the place and we just kept a lid on it to survive.   Still the details of how to navigate the world, I owe to my dad.  I think of this a little every day and it makes me proud.

I guess the best pieces of advice my dad gave me, was “you take care of you” and “Be Cool”.   This was his advice in all situations, but I don’t think I really owned it until this past year.  I had another near death experience with a loved one about two years ago.  It pushed me hard into a place where I had to work harder to take care of me.  I had to acknowledge that my fear of others dying was a vulnerability that did not serve me any purpose.  I worked through it to a peace.   That is kind of awesome.

What is funny, is I was not wrong about death.  A lot of people I loved have died.  So many.  A few times the people I have loved most in the world, sometimes the people I lived for.  I didn’t get that I should have been living for me.  I get that now.  It is true that to love others in a real free way you have to love yourself first.  It is a powerful reality to live in.   Also, I get that I carry those people in my heart every day.  That I am changed by knowing them, and that love never dies.   These are lessons worthy of noting.  My friend Alex was murdered last year, and at the end of the sorrow and outrage I am only left with love.  I am amazed that someone so wonderful was here with us and am grateful to have known him.  I love him.  All of these people died quickly, without warning.   Navigating my dad and illness is different, and for me harder.

My dad has been sick for so long that some of my friends are like… yeah yeah yeah your dad is dying… he has been dying forever.  He has been.  Some people point out I have gone home to see my dad for the last time, and he is still here.  I feel like The Girl who cried My Dad is Dying.  But that is frustrating to me because, HE HAS BEEN.  When he first got cancer, they did the surgery and he was in the hospital for 4 months, and no one, but him, thought he would get out. I had been stuck in this space in my life, which in part had to do with fear and helplessness.   It is hard to live 1500 miles away and to have someone you love be sick.  For the most part until now he has always told me know to worry and not to fuss .  I didn’t really hear it.  My family and I were all wide eyed and amazed he pulled through from one terminal diagnosis to the next and until not too long ago he lived in his own condo. It has been a long 15 months of hospice.  I am thankful he feels loved by the staff there.  I don’t hear a reassurance from him this time, so I am going to his side.  But I am no longer afraid, I have moved to a new space. I can be cool, or not, and I am so happy to go and whatever is supposed to happen is going to happen.

When I think of my dad, I am filled with a love that I cannot explain.   I hope it comes through when I am reading while he snores and kiss him on the forehead when he wakes up.  I know this trip like many others will be hard, frustrating and sad.  But it will also be great.  I am going to be okay no matter what, because I am definitely my dad’s daughter.

Christmas 2012

Be well. 

t