TheBanyanTree: The Ghosts from Christmases Past, Present, and Future

[Margaret R. Kramer]

Santa didn’t bring back my husband to me.  I woke up this morning and Ray
was not in bed with me.  Joe was.  And then Joe got up, went to the
bathroom, and left with barely a word out into the subzero morning.  His own
wife died on January 3 of last year and he’s been in what I call “Alice in
Wonderland,” (her name was Alice) reliving and reliving the weeks leading up
to her death from colon cancer.

Joe’s been drinking heavily and feeling nasty and mean and loving and all
mixed up.  We’ve broken up about 80 times during the past few days.  I’m an
emotional mess, too.  Christmas, with all its joy and excitement and
emphasis on family togetherness, also amplifies any feelings of loneliness,
anxiety, inadequacy, and depression.

So, my Christmas Present consists of me wanting to go into my bedroom, shut
the door, and live like a hermit until January 2 when the world returns to
normal.  But, I’m dragged along like anyone, into the guts of forced
Christmas happiness.

This is what I did yesterday:  I worked out.  Then I went to Baker’s Square
and picked up a candy cane pie.

I went to the cemetery carrying my candy cane for Ray.  Oh, the cemetery is
still so beautiful with all its snow and Christmas wreaths.  I brought my
camera, but I ran out of the house so fast, I forgot to check the batteries,
and I was unable to take any pictures.  I slogged through the snow to my
grandparents’ graves and brushed off the poinsettias I left for them a few
weeks before.

There was a funeral at the cemetery.  Wouldn’t it be nice to be buried on
Christmas Eve?  The old soldiers fired off a salute to the dead veteran.
The shots echoed through the cemetery.

After shedding my tears, I left and bought a gift card for Susan at Caribou
Coffee and got myself a turtle mocha, a rare treat for me.

I stopped at Herberger’s and bought myself a couple of sweaters and another
gift card for Susan.

Then it was home in order to assemble and cook our Christmas Eve dinner.  I
raced like a madwoman around the kitchen and then wrapped presents with
amazing speed.  Ray was my present wrapper.  Oh, I miss him so much.

I promised Joe I would go to church with him.  He picked me up at 3:30 pm.
And then it happened.  I turned on my cell phone and had a message from my
boss asking me why I wasn’t checking my email.

Well, I took the day off, but I told him I would monitor email and follow up
on it.  Of course, I hadn’t checked anything.  I was too busy.  I was too
caught up in my own stuff to think about work.  I felt sick inside.

Instead of going to church, Joe drove me to the office, and he went home,
while I worked.  There were a ton of emails I had to answer and act upon.
So, I did.  I worked for two hours in the darkness and peacefulness of my
office.  It was actually the best part of Christmas Eve for me.

Joe picked me up when I was done and he went home (because he hates my son
and won’t even be in the same room with him, even though Asher has never
done anything to Joe.  It’s all in Joe’s mind.  Obviously, this is a huge
stressor in our relationship, something for me to continue to evaluate).

The rest of the evening went fine.  Dinner was great.  The kids were good.
We all liked our scaled down Christmas presents.  Joe came over after Asher
left for the evening.  And headed right up for bed with hardly a word to me.

The Christmas Past Ghost is memories of Ray.  Memories of him are swirling
around in my head.  I can’t even begin to express how much I miss him.  I
hate the person I am now.  I’m so disorganized and tired and emotional and I
’m just a mess.  What happened to me?  He was my security, my cheerleader,
my lover, and someone who totally understood me and I understood him.  I
know I’ll never meet another man who I’ll love as much as I did Ray.

And the Ghost of Christmas Future?  Will I still have my job?  Will the
economy suck me under?  I worry about being homeless a lot.  I would be
extremely surprised if Joe and I are together next year.  Will I have a new
love?  Or will I be alone?  Will I be more mentally together next year?  It
can only get better, right?

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net
margaret.kramer at polarispublications.com
www.polarispublications.com

Christmas - that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so
intangible that it is like a fragrance.  It may weave a spell of nostalgia.
Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a
day of remembrance - a day in which we think of everything we have ever
loved.
~Augusta E. Rundel
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