Tuesday, December 7, 2010
When I came back to Canada three years ago, I allowed myself to somewhat join in on the Christmas festivities. Christmas was after all, my, like every other child’s, favorite holiday. Religiously, no longer a celebrator, I still worked my full eight hours last year and the year before, and I took the most undesirable shift possible (so someone who celebrates didn’t have to).

Last year was a bit different though, as it was the first Christmas without my mom. Everyone was set in his or her thoughts that Christmas would be terribly glum. I did everything in my power to make that impossible. I did everything I could to create a brilliant Christmas for my loved ones. I thought maybe, it could offer us all hope.

I brought home a tree and I decorated it. I bought countless gifts for my family, and Sam (who was at that time staying at my house) and her daughter (who I would pick up from her father’s house to join us on Christmas morning). I knew there would be very little under the tree for me as my family here consisted of my brother, who can’t seem to hold onto a job and my father, who though generous all year round, has never been good at gifts on demand. Sam was financially inept and totally selfish, so it came as no surprise that she spent what little money she had saved by not paying rent on herself, her daughter and her new boyfriend.

I didn’t want a single person to feel bad on Christmas morning. And I figured they would, if they opened gifts while I sat empty-handed. So, while I stuffed stockings for others, I also stuffed one for myself. I bought myself small gifts and wrapped them. I failed to sign my name to any single gift under the tree, so it wasn’t obvious to anyone, not even Sam’s daughter, that I had purchased 99% of them.

And Christmas last year was a hit. Everyone had a great time, and my heart was filled with absolute joy. The only thing that was missing was my mom. I know if she were looking down, she’d be proud of the Christmas I single-handedly created, despite my personal religious convictions.

This year, I have way less money than last, but I cannot help feel the festivities in the air.

We bought a live tree instead of cut, feeling it is more environmentally friendly and convenient to do so. Live trees don’t drop as many needles and we can put it outside after the holiday’s, watch it grow till next year when we’ll bring it in and decorate it again.

I have been shopping since mid-October, to make up for any financial loss and ensure that everyone is again spoiled. And this year, thanks to Lars, I too will be sincerely spoiled; He’s stuffed my stocking and bought me gifts and I won’t know what they are until I open them on Christmas morning. My father has thrown money at the both of us either by shopping with us or refusing rent payments, to help purchase necessities and gifts on his behalf.

The closets and nooks in the house are already filled with beautifully wrapped boxes, contents unknown. The excitement reminds me of when I was a little girl. And there are still 18 days left!

The days shall go by quickly, as I head to Squamish again on the 14th for a few days. I am not necessarily looking forward to it. It’s colder there and they’ve got snow, I’ve been told. I really don’t have the choice though… On the 9th I have legal documents to sign, and who knows what else will happen in between.

Religiously, I’m not meant to celebrate this favorite holiday of mine. But these days I can feel the importance of taking part in what your family celebrates and it by no means changes my religious convictions. Besides, I can still remember one Christmas in Dubai, my refusal to celebrate Christmas brought my mother to tears... It was simply wrong, offensive, and selfish of me. I feel the same may very well be true today.

0 words of wisdom:


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No matter where I am, I'm lost and learning to like it. I'm a living contradiction, and the best lies I tell are the ones I tell myself.
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