The most wonderful time of the year

It’s a most familiar tune.  Andy Williams I think, played on the radio. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year”.

Is it not? Christmas has always been that special time of the year. A time for good cheer.  A time for giving and receiving.  Presents from everyone, gift-wrapped for everyone else. Family gatherings and food fests. Bright lights glittering the city.  Christmas trees of all sizes and carols playing in the background.

Jenny and I had always relished this time of the year. There was a magic feeling in the air. We would go shopping for presents for the kids, sneaking the loot stealthily into the house and wrapping them behind closed doors. We need to preserve the element of surprise. Shopping was sometime stressful. Not just because of the crowds, but as the kids grow older and seemed to have all their needs and wants met, searching for the right gift that would not bankrupt us was getting to be a stretch.  But still we greeted each coming Christmas with eager-beaver anticipation.

But this last Christmas was a far cry from Christmases past.  I could literally cry. During the previous Christmas in 2014, the mood was already sombre. Jenny was undergoing her 3^rd or 4^th round of chemo having been diagnosed with advanced cancer two months before.  Her life-force was on the wane.  A pale shadow of her former self. But we could still huddle around the Christmas tree together. Quietly savouring our limited moments together, trying to keep our hopes high that the storm would pass over.   

Without her now, the festive season only accentuated the pain of losing her.  The rituals of the season with the customary sights, sounds and smell  now conspire as cruel reminders of her absence. The hole that is now a fixture in my life gapes larger than ever.

So the festive season is not such a wonderful time of the year.  Not for me anymore.

And I saw it coming. So I hatched the escape plan. Break off from the routine for a getaway. And pack off to a faraway land, with the rest of the clan. Which was the main reason for our recent trip to Spain. A holiday to be used as an excuse.

But it is hard to really run away. 

“Wishing you and your family a blessed Christmas and a very happy new year.“

An incessant stream of Christmas and new year greetings bombarded our cell phones.  Well wishes from friends and colleagues back home, with honest-to-goodness intent. Heaped upon us generously from across the globe. Niceties to be exchanged. So I returned the well wishes. Sometimes grudgingly.  I replied each one as would be expected of me. It was the civil thing to do. 

I usually kept the replies short and simple.  No hint of the sender’s morose state. My true feelings kept private. Not to be shared, after all one should be expected to spread good cheer at this time of the year.  Was it not the jolly happy holidays?

We returned from our Spanish retreat on the final day of the year. At home, our domestic helper had put up the old Christmas tree. The plasticky structure appeared  lop-sided and battered but otherwise it still resembled a tree. We bought it to celebrate our first Christmas together as a married couple. So the tree is close to 30 years old. Amazing but true.  It is one of the few possessions we had acquired together that outlasted Jenny’s life as my wife.

Our 30 year old Xmas tree
 

But the tree now stands forlornly at the corner of our living room. The dangling ornaments, used and re-used for many years need replacement.  The tiny light bulbs encircling the tree, flickered weakly. I asked my helper to dismantle and pack up the fixture, as Christmas was well over. But she reminded me that it was too early.  After the twelfth day she would.  I was in no mood to argue on that.

So Christmas came and went. And I was relieved to move into the new year, leaving the last festive season trailing behind.  Breaking away from the routine to bond with my kids at a faraway country was immensely helpful. But I am unsure if I could afford such lavish cop-out plans in future years. I guess the future will take care for itself.

Not many people could truly understand the darkness of bereavement. That of a lost spouse. It is not difficult also to put on a mask and pretend to be happy. But during the holiday season, the grief we feel is heightened by festive happenings taking place all around. The rituals of the season remind us what we were deprived of. So I was glad to put this festive season behind me.

But wait, next month will be our Lunar New Year.  Another festive season to deal with.  And even more intensely celebrated than Christmas in our part of the world.  Looks like déjà vu all over again.