"Remember, if Christmas isn’t found in your heart, you won’t find it under a tree.” Charlotte Carpenter.
So here it is... Christmas Morning.
My son is up and welded to his brand new phone... my sister is on the motorway on her way down (delayed by foul weather last night)… my Dad has set off for church without us... and my Mum is doing unspeakable things to the turkey. I am yet to telephone my other sister and her family for an update of what's happen there as she has young children who are probably buried under reams of wrapping paper as we speak.
Confusion abounds in JaxWorld.
Normally Christmas morning is a straightforward exercise of up, bathe, dress, champagne breakfast and out for church. After church we all head to my parents and have Christmas with 3 generations and one great big fat tv.
But not this year.
We will come together at some point in the day though... Big sis will be here in about two hours, My son and I will drive over to the parents with her and little sis and her brood should collide with us there. I reckon a few hours later we'll splinter off again. One family with Christmas under three roofs.
Recent events have cast a circle of fragility over this the most enjoyable of the Christian festivals and given the underlying current of misery that no one wants to admit to we have fractured into three different camps so we can get through the day with the minimum of distress.
Presents are unopened under the trees currently. I am a bit of a co-ordination nazi, and have overwrapped gift I did not buy in paper that matches my colour scheme! It's rather nice we haven't opened much yet...makes the Xmasy feeling linger a while longer. However my son has fond his way clear to a new phone, camera and a variety of clothing items without making much of dent. We haven't even had breakfast yet.
This is the first year in his entire 18 years we have not gone to church on Christmas morning and we do feel like a pair of mad rebels. We know the true meaning of Christmas... and one would imagine with the trail of truly bad things that have affected our little family we would take comfort in the fellowship of other believers....however by mutual consent at midnight last night we decided not.
We watched It's a Wonderful Life... possibly the darkest Christmas movie of all time. Strong themes being debt, despair and suicide. And yet a Christmas classic as the hope and true meaning of the season rings clearer than the bell that rings when guardian angel Clarence gets his wings. In fact it was at that point when we both said... "No Church tomorrow ".
So here we are a couple of rebels in pajamas debating what goes with scramble eggs... salmon or steak. It looks like steak is gonna win. A precursor no doubt to the whole day of gluttony that lies ahead.
I've managed to do a few christmassy things before today, as I mentioned a couple of blogs ago I put up the decorations and even managed eggnog with the neighbours (both sides!). Then I went to see The Royal Ballet perform the Nutcracker at the Royal Opera House.. though to be fair that was not of my volition it was an event organised to celebrate a dear friends 40th which was arranged some time ago. This was the first event in which I was in the company of friends in a large group since the events of December 5th. I did not fair to well... I couldn't stabalise into a consistent mood and found myself "acting Jax". I think I must have told the tale of December 5th around 8 times as friends who had not seen me since it happened enquiried and passed on their condolences. My attempts to not let my bereavement overshadow the event I was attending made me act like a crazy person. Some probably thought I clearly couldn't have cared that much about the deceased if I could talk so calmly, or (and I am ashamed to say it) get into a shouting match with another attendee. I just can't quite handle things quite right yet. I don't wish to be 'debbie downer' but 'ice queen' or 'fury banshee' aren't really socially acceptable either.
Yup... it's wise for me not to do the mass mingle just yet.
Church would be a bad idea. I know I said I was not angry at any deities for my bereavement.... but I couldn't take the risk of finding out I am while kiddies gather around the manager and all sing hosanna to King of Kings.
You see, even while smiling and being a little less stable than normal, what is really going on in the back of my mind, is the hidden Christmas Present. The carefully selected one I bought months ago that remains unwrapped in the bag. We were gonna make a new Christmas tradition this year and have our own on 27th December free from family obligations, we wee going to do our Christmas then. It's not gonna happen now obviously. I really should have taken the present back … but all I could muster the strength to do was to hide the bag out of sight. And yet it wanders through my brain every few seconds.
I have to stop thinking and paste on the smile I learned when Ballroom Dancing. In fact Ballroom Dancing mantra of get out there and look like these are the best 90 seconds of your life will have to get me through. After a while you forget to apply a fresh smile every 90 seconds.... it becomes real.
Our December 27th tradition never got of the ground.
But today is Christmas Day... the real one.
And my son the chef has just roared at me that if I want a medium rare steak I better stop fiddling with my "clevermijigg" and take a seat at the festively laid table.
** SMILE**
And so the first Christmas as a non-widow begins.
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