Christmas Through The Centuries
Alternate Title: Christmases I Have Survived
Alternate Alternate Title: The Meaning of Christmas...To Me
My parents always worked to make Christmas very special. Money was not always there but there were always lots of gifts under the tree and always a goose with all the traditional, German trimmings on the table. And cookies! My mother would start her baking in November and by the time Christmas rolled around she would have dozens of different types of cookies stored in the cold room at the front of the house. Cookies that I would inevitably sample prior to Christmas Eve when we were "officially" allowed to start eating them!
And while the gifts and the food were special, it is the traditions and rituals that stay with me most now that I am older. Things like my dad coming home from work early Christmas Eve with my Grossmutter (grandmother), ready to celebrate! Things like my dad coming to me at the last possible moment to wrap his gifts for my mom. Things like me preparing a fresh fruit salad from the time I was old enough to handle a knife. Things like getting all dressed up at about 4:00, because we always dressed up in our best clothes, even it was only "just us". Things like sitting in the living room and having drinks, listening to German Christmas carols and chatting together. My Grossmutter always shed a few tears when two in particular played - Leise rieselt der Schnee and Es ist ein Ros entsprungen. I never saw her cry at any other time...
And then...Dinner!!! Roast Goose and stuffing, German red cabbage and potato dumplings! We'd eat in the dining room by candlelight, my dad at the head of the table and my Grossmutter at the opposite end. From that we'd move to "my" fruit salad and then...cookies!!! Dinner was never a rushed affair - time was always taken to savour and enjoy the meal and each other's company. We'd sip some wine and talk through dinner, all the while listening to those beautiful Christmas songs in the background.
I would clear the table while mom put food away, nibbling on some goose bones in the process! Then she and dad would head off to the living room while Grossmutter would help me wash dishes. Really, she sat at the kitchen table while I washed up! But I never minded - Grossmutter was my best friend, my confidant, the one in whom I confided all my tales of woe, and there were a few. She was the woman who inspired me the most, to whom I looked up to the most and who meant more to me than anyone else. Simply being with her, talking with her, was enough. She died when I was 17 and I knew that no one could ever replace the gaping hole in my heart, in my life.
Finally, once the kitchen was cleaned up, Grossmutter and I rejoined my parents in the living room and we could open gifts. Tradition dictated that the youngest in the family who could read was charged with distributing the presents. One-by-one, I would hand them out, waiting until each was opened and we'd all had an opportunity to examine it and proclaim it to be the "best thing ever", before handing out the next one. Paper was never ripped - it was always carefully removed, to be folded and saved for next year. We'd always manage to make the opening of gifts last much of the night! Once the last gift was unwrapped and paper all stored away, my mother would usually proclaim she'd heard a noise coming from her bedroom. My father would run to investigate and return bearing a "special" gift for me! This gift was always something that was truly special, probably more than they could really afford, and, for me, the icing on the cake!
Not long after, we'd all head off to bed, Grossmutter sleeping on the couch in the living room. She always frightened me a bit, sleeping as she did, stiffly, on her back, arms by her side. She looked rather...dead. And then...suddenly...a loud snore! And I'd jump, startled!!!
And it was all rather idyllic...the parts I choose to dwell on. The other parts - the parts I "survived", less so. The many Christmas Eves my father would get home late from the office Christmas party drunk and an argument would ensue between my parents. The many Christmas Eves that both my parents would have had much too much to drink before dinner, more with dinner, even more after dinner...The many Christmas Eves missed altogether because my parents and I did not speak to each other because my mother couldn't handle having a lesbian daughter.
Those Christmas Eves have left their scars, their wounds. And talking about Christmas would be a bit of a lie if I didn't include those parts as well. Grossmutter saved my sanity through the many years of my parents' alcoholism. My parents and I reconciled a year before my mother died. I've managed to forgive them. It wasn't all bad. And I've learned that forgiveness is good for the soul. It allows us to move forward and love others more deeply and honestly. It doesn't mean forgetting what others have done - it means letting it go.
Of course I would be remiss if I didn't include a bit about Christmas and my life today. It is, in many ways, a much more joyous affair - a day filled with love and hope and fun. A day where my wife lovingly prepares an amazing vegan meal for both of us to share. A day where we sit back and yes, have some wine (or bubbly!) and share what we are grateful for. A day where a we spend time with each other and our wonderful fur-kids. A day without strife and judgement. A day where we just are. And that's okay!
Whatever you are celebrating, I wish you Peace, Love, and Great Joy!!!
