I remember how exciting this time of year was when I was young. My mother would decorate our house with magical Santa replicas, mini towns and snowmen. It was fabulous. Then the week before the big day mom would start counting down the sleeps till the jolly fat bastard arrived to deliver the loot. "Five more sleeps till Santa comes," she would say. And I would snuggle into bed each night and pray that this would be the year Santa would give me the one thing I always wanted. The gift of being an only child.
If your wondering, he never did. Eventually my family even expanded from two girls to three and I just learned to deal with the fact that Santa and God fucked me... But now that I'm older and have given up on childhood fantasies like Santa and singleton living, I am starting to realize that my sisters are two of the best things that ever happened to me.
I know that sounds cheesy, but after my mother died it hit me that these two people are the only ones that share the same blood I do. And because we have shared the loss of our mother, we are supportive of the fact that we may never get over her being so painfully absent from our lives.
Though Christmas isn't the same since my mom has left us, I find joy in the little ways we keep her with us at this time of the year. We decorate our homes with some of her favorite pieces. We count down the sleeps with our tiny boys and best of all, we get together and reminisce about how she made the day magic. I think she gave us the best gift of all...Each other.
Merry Christmas to all, I'll see you in the new year!