The First Christmas

The first Christmas after you lose a part of your family, is the hardest one. By the time Christmas rolled around I think I was still in a state of shock and possibly a little bit of denial that my mom was gone. I knew I just had to get through it for the sake of my son. This was the first year that he was really excited and understood what was going on. I didn’t want to ruin it for him. I know my mom would’ve told me to try my hardest to give him a good Christmas and so, for another few weeks, I put out of my mind what had happened.
Since my brother and Satan were in such a rush to get my mom’s money, I had a check in my hand exactly one week after she died. I remember opening the envelope and crying. When I finally went to the bank to cash it, I cried. When I went shopping for my son for Christmas, I looked in the back of my car at all the gifts and again, I cried. My mom spoiled the hell out of son, and so I went a little extra this past Christmas. I went onto her phone one day and looked in her amazon app and ordered all the things she had saved in her favorites that she was going to order for him and I told him that it was from her.
My mom always made Christmas so special for us. It would take us an entire weekend to get our house decorated. I remember we’d replace almost everything on any type of surface in my house with Christmas stuff. Half our attic was filled exclusively with Christmas stuff. My mom used to really enjoy it when we were kids. I then thought about the last few Christmas’s. The year 2013 was the first Christmas after my brother had met Satan. That Christmas took place only a few weeks after they had their first huge blowout. It was a sad year. It was also the first year in our entire lives that we didn’t spend all together. For 6 years prior to then, we spent our Christmases with my brother’s ex-fiance’s mom, Donna and her husband. We had a whole tradition going. We’d all go to my brother’s apartment in the morning for breakfast. There we’d exchange gifts. Donna would make us all laugh because she’s come with this huge bag for my brother’s ex, filled with random things she had been collecting over the year. Donna had a bit of a shopping addiction which also lead to a hoarding problem. It was a rip to watch them discuss each and every item and why she got it. To go from that to just me, my, mom, my husband and my son. It was sad. My mom hadn’t seen my brother the following two Christmas’s. Because those two assholes refused to make amends, her last Christmas ever, in 2015, she had to spend it separately. She came to my house Christmas Day and then saw them the day after, but her visit with them was cut short when I called her and told her she needed to go to the emergency room. 
Even though it was great seeing my son open all of his toys, it was bittersweet. Not calling my mom in the morning was odd. Knowing we wouldn’t be seeing her that day, felt really strange. It was surreal. My moms youngest sister Dana called me up a few weeks before Christmas and told me that she’d like to have us over. That was a big help and I’m so thankful she invited us. My Aunt Dana and I have a special bond. When everything went down in my family after Aunt Bea and Uncle Bob’s son molested my younger cousin, I felt like I was living in the twilight zone. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why my other aunts and uncles were so accepting and forgiving towards my cousin, when he had committed one of the most horrifying acts a person could commit, and nonetheless, to another family member. Aunt Dana was the ONLY person who seemed to agree with me that it was so fucked up. Her and I would spend hours on the phone talking about it. She was the only person in my family that understood how I felt. 
It wasn’t until my son’s birthday, which is New Year’s Eve, that my mom’s death really hit me. Not only did it hit me, but it hit me like a hurricane. For the weeks following my mom’s death I was in fight or flight mode still. I had suppressed my feelings. Grief is a really fucked up and complicated emotion. After you spend an entire year slowly watching someone die, it sounds terrible, but you almost have this strange sense of relief. I was not relieved that my mom was gone, not at all. I was relieved because I didn’t have to watch her suffering anymore. I’ve heard people say that it’s “easier” when you know that someone is going die before they actually do. I have to disagree. I think they’re equally as bad, but I have been through both and I can say knowing definitely does not make it easier because in the months, weeks and days until it happens, you are in a constant state of anxiousness. Your worry consumes you. You feel despair and helplessness as you slowly watch their health decline and their bodies give upon them. The torture of seeing someone you love like that is worse than any torture ISiS can conjure up. It’s not easy, either way you put it. 
As 2016 came to an endI had absolutely no desire to do anything. My husband and I both sat on our couch waiting for the ball to drop. We counted down, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and when the ball dropped, we both just kind of sat there and said a very unenthusiastic, yey. We looked at each other and I said, “fuck You 2016… were the worst year of my life.”
(The end of the back story)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

About ThefamScapegoat