Every day I am, as anyone in my situation is I believe, faced with things or people, maybe music or even a scent that reminds me so deeply of how my life has changed. But we are all in this same predicament. We, no matter our level of loss, have things around us that stir memories. This time of year for me is especially rich with memories. My friends, the professionals as I have called them before have talked with me about the power and the curse of memories. Emotions surfacing because of the holidays or the first snow fall or any number of things can be both joyous and devastating at the time.
This past weekend my incredible and wonderful middle sister came to play. We had no plans. We decided to do some shopping. We braved IKEA and enjoyed lunch at Chilies’. As we entered one of my favorite stores, Hobby Lobby, we walked down the Christmas tree aisle. Out of the corner of my eye I saw it. The tree was 7 feet tall with pinecones, snow, berries and lights. As I stood staring, my sister commented on how beautiful it was. In the back of my mind I kept hearing a voice asking me what I was planning to do this year for a tree. There was the old artificial tree down in the basement. But could I go back to that old thing after lobbying so hard for years to go back to a real tree? Then again… a real tree… the memories…
Our first real tree was specially selected by my husband up at the family hunting camp. Our trees for many years were carefully sought out and hand cut at the end of the week at camp. He would walk around the land looking for the perfect tree. He would spot the one he thought was, the one. If it was early in the week he would call me and tell me he thought he had found the best tree ever but he wasn’t 100% sure. I knew by the excitement in his voice that he was giddy with anticipation. He was always so proud of the tree he had presented to us. We switched to artificial trees during the years we were ensconced in travel hockey. I think we had traveled on more Christmases than should be allowed. Having the fake tree made it so much easier to not have to worry about taking it down before we left. Remember, I’m a firefighter’s daughter, always concerned about the Christmas tree fire. When we moved to my current home, we once again enjoyed the luster of a real tree. Although he no longer brought our tree home from up north, we would spend a day searching our local tree farms for the tree that touched our hearts.
So there I stood. Wondering if this was what I wanted to have in my home for the holidays. My first thought was of him balking at the price. Just a small surge of power went through me. Just as quickly, the feeling of being powerless flowed. Shouldn’t I do what we had always done? I’ve heard that the more you try to make something the same as it was, before your loved one died, the more it is obviously not the same. I thank God my sister was there. I don’t know if she saw how many times I tried to walk away from the tree. How many times my eyes filled with tears. My grown up mind was telling me it was just a tree. My heart was breaking at the thought of choosing a Christmas tree by myself for the first time in my entire life. I don’t know how long I stood there but I know that my sister was kind and patient and all a big sister should be. I bought the tree. We went home and rearranged the family room to accommodate the most beautiful tree in my world. I know she would never say anything but I wonder how awkward the silence was for her. We didn’t say much as we put the tree up. Oh we talked as we moved the couch here and the table there… but when we were doing the actual tree… it was quiet. I was so afraid that if I opened my mouth to speak I would loose control. To better explain what I was feeling and thinking about... my husband and I usually did not exchange gifts at Christmas. It began years ago when money was tight. So we designed our own celebration. Late Christmas eve, after the kids were in bed, we’d finish wrapping the gifts for the kids and stuff the stockings. When everything was complete, we’d turn off all the lights, except the tree and open a bottle of Asti. We would snuggle up close by the tree and then share our gifts with each other. Our gift was to fulfill one wish, just one for each other for the entire year. I remember one year, my wish was to not be reminded about how often I stayed at work way past the end of my shift. For the next year, he worked so hard not to call me out for working too hard. I remember the year he wished that I never question his love for me. He had had a stressful year and had at times brought those stresses home. So for the next year, I stepped back during conflicts just to be sure I remembered how much I knew he loved me. We continued this tradition until just last year.
So I’ve experience another “first”. I can’t determine how I feel having crossed yet another threshold. This week will be most interesting as I have a fairly major “first” about to happen. It will be the first time in 30 years he is not here on a special day. But I’ll get up on that day and go to work. I’ll remember how special I was always made to feel on this most special day. I will be celebrating my birthday without him for the first time since I was 19. I’ve had more birthdays with him… then not. I can’t help but look back on all the fun birthdays over the years. The surprises, the quiet evenings, the dinners out and all the other ways my husband helped me celebrate. A few years ago he told me one morning that he needed to borrow my car for the day. Odd as we had exactly the same vehicles, one just one year older than the other. But I took the bait and gave him the car. I mentioned the car trade at work that day and a colleague said something like wouldn’t it be terrible if he took it to have something like an automatic car starter installed? She went on to lament about how that was the worst gift and if a guy ever gave her something like that….blah, blah, blah. I kept thinking that would be a really cool gift. Lucky me, that is exactly what he had installed on my car as a birthday gift. I was thrilled and I to this day love that he thought that much about my comfort. I also every year, on my birthday and Mother’s Day received some form of the perfume I had been wearing since I turned 21. I feel so sad thinking about this past spring. He had so recently past and I was just about out of perfume. I went to Macy’s and as I stood there it hit me. I had never purchased my own perfume. My original scent was a gift from him. I know it sounds silly to say but this was his job, not mine. He would scour the newspapers for the Estee Lauder “freebie” and then make his purchases. I can almost picture him now, charming the sales girls. But he was always so excited about giving me something we both enjoyed. I’m not sure why this just popped in to my head but years ago, when I was just about to turn 16 or 17, my mom and I were having some common variety conflicts. A few days before my birthday she kept asking me what I wanted my cake to say… I think she was trying to make conversation but I was completely annoyed. Had she not been around for the past 16 or 17 years to see what previous cakes had said? Anyway, in an effort to be a smart ass and frankly shut her up, I said, “how about happy birthday Edna”? She gave me the mother of all killer mom looks and I very quickly left the room. As we celebrated that birthday, the cake was brought to the table as those around me half heartedly sang. As I looked at the cake I saw it… “Happy Birthday Edna”. In that moment, I clicked with my mom as I never had before. To this day, she often will call me Edna. I’m sure it’s her way of re-attaching our connection. I told that story to my late husband years ago. Every year, there would be three birthday cards from him. There was the funny card, the loving card and the card addressed to Edna that would be, how can I say it…the passionate card.
I’m flooded with the warmth of these memories. I’m proud that the bitter sweet in my heart is beginning to lean more to the sweet as the bitter begins to fade ever so slightly. I plan to enjoy the day and enjoy the tree. As I’ve said before, it won’t be the same but it can be just as good. I plan not to even try to make things as they were for either my birthday or the holidays. I believe if I did and I failed either myself or my families, it would hurt even more. So I’ll channel my inner Edna and enjoy the day.
I hope so…
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