Christmas is for Crying

"I am not alone at all, I thought.
I was never alone at all.
 And that, of course, is the message of Christmas;
 We are never alone. 
Not when the night is darkest. 
The wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. 
For this is still the time God chooses.”

~Taylor Caldwell~

I don't like paper napkins. First of all, one paper napkin is never sufficient.

At the little Vietnamese place I frequent for weekday lunches, they have those little paper napkins that are always displayed a-la-Happy-Days-style in a stainless steel holder. 

As a group the little single ply paper napkins do the job, but you'd better not have to blow your nose.

Recently I met my friend there for lunch, and after we ordered - me my usual soup and she, a warm bowl of comforting noodles with curried chicken - we began to chat about all things girlish.  My friend confided in me that she was having a hard time this Christmas season. Things weren't going her way. On top of mom things, man-things were not going her way.  Ew. Bad combination.

Our meals came. Mine was just exactly what the doctor ordered on a blustery December day; hot soup, yummy, soft, noodles....mmmmm.  My friend on the other hand was presented with a substantial plate of large chunks of curried chicken sans-noodle-comfort-staple.   This was the tipping point.

She looked up at me, and said that this holiday was "sh!t". Then, as if on cue, came the text message that the man she was supposed to see during her holidays was not indeed flying back home. Her holiday became that much more lonely. 

Tears dropped into the huge hunks of curried chicken.  I could feel a heavy-weight round of, "men suck" coming on, and I scrambled in my purse to find something massive-crying-runny-nose-worthy for my friend to blow her nasal sorrows into. 

We commiserated about how it feels to be the person not chosen to spend time with during the holidays. How absolutely disappointing it is not to be the woman receiving the flowers, the jewelry, the date.  We did not however have to mention how great it is sometimes not to be the overworked, overstressed, overtired wife who also is not receiving flowers, jewelry or the "date".  That, in my opinion would be worse.  Trapped.  At least as single women, we have the potential for those things, for that loving relationship, for hope, and for a wine cupboard that never ends....For a wine cupboard that never ends. Wait. Did I say that already?

We nodded in agreement about how hard it is to be a woman holding "it" all together.  Working, paying the bills, homeworking, disciplining, Christmasing and trying to be "soft" and "lady-like", and not falling to bits because we're worn to the bone in every way. We laughed about how pathetic we are stuffing our own stockings, and that's not a metaphor folks. On the up side, I'll wake up to red suede mittens and french milled, lemon scented soap December 25th. Perhaps Santa may also drop into the California valleys and pick up a little something liquidish and deep red for mommy too.

We laughed and we cried. But it's not just our romantic relationships that the curried chicken tears reminded me of. Anyone who has lost a loved one during the holidays knows how difficult this time of year can be. We remember what it's like to have gifts wrapped -to and from- the great unconditional loves of our life wrapped and under the tree just days after they have died.

Every year, as the greenery, red ribbons and mistletoe come out, we are reminded of how empty these special holidays can be. How sad. How very lonely, even in the midst of social parties and merry making grief can leave a hole so big that it swallows everything else. Our grief, years later, blinds us in sudden, unexpected blustery gusts of emotion. After some time, we come to the realization that our grief makes the holiday that much more precious with the people we love now. 

Years ago I decided that despite my losses, I would be grateful for the friends and family that I do see during the holidays.  I would be thankful for the friends who have become my Christmas day tradition. It's hard not to long for that Norman Rockwell family waking up together Christmas morning. It's hard not to be disappointed that this is not the year Mr. Right makes my Christmas bright.  It's hard not to cry sometimes.

This year at the end of November I called a holiday truce. I would be grateful. Grateful for those people in my life who choose to spend some time during the holidays with my little family of two.

As we sat at that lunch table, my friend dabbing tears from the corners of her eyes, the wait staff came over to ask if everything was ok.  I wanted to pertly say, "NO! Bring her noodles damn it! That's why she's crying!", but I didn't think the waiter would get my humour, and I didn't think my friend would have been any happier.

So cry if you need to. Cry if your heart is hurting. Remember your blessings too, even if it's just a temporary Christmas truce....trust me on this one.