What I Like Most About Christmas . . .
. . . is when it's over. And I definitely feel that at 12:01 am on the morning of December 26, all Christmas music and decorations should disappear, as it is technically no longer Christmas.

I know that is terribly bah-humbug of me. But, it's true.

All things considered, I just returned from a relaxing and enjoyable visit to my parents. Too bad Christmas had to be in the middle of it to cast a dark cloud over the occasion.

It's nothing against Christmas itself. I understand Christmas and the point of the whole thing. I'm thankful for that. I know other people enjoy it, and that's totally fine. And to be perfectly honest, I have my moments when I truly believe I'm enjoying something about Christmas. But generally Christmas is a reminder of sad things for me and my family, and if I could have it my way, I'd prefer to skip the whole thing all together, thank you very much.

There's just something missing. My sister. It doesn't seem right for us to get together and have Christmas without her. The best gifts I ever gave or received were the 'sister gifts'. I always looked forward to that, because sisters know what sisters like. My parents gave cool things on occasion, but when you get to the 'sister gift' you know it will be fun, or funny, or the one thing that parents just don't understand but that you really wanted.

That's missing now. I'm not even a sister anymore.

It feels wrong to be the one still here to open gifts. The one thing my parents are completely devoted to, other than each other and God, is their kids. My dad has always worked incredibly hard to make sure his wife and kids always had what we need, and often many things that we don't need. He has often gone without a big fun toy for himself so that we can have the big fun toys at Christmas or birthdays. He loves watching us open the big grand finale presents from 'Santa', because we all know Dad is Santa, yet he prefers to see how excited we are at the gift rather than put his own name on it for the credit.

Now, there is something terribly heartbreaking about my Dad being one kid short at Christmas. His whole life is his family, and then he loses one. At Christmas we always take turns opening a gift, watching each other open and react to each present before the next person opens a gift. As a kid, this was a painstakingly slow and annoying process. But now, it seems to always be my turn, and I don't know what to do with that. There's always another present for me to open, and it's never my sister's turn. I can't share the spotlight anymore. My Dad still loves to 'wow' me with the big Santa gift, but there's something bittersweet about it now. It's like I have to fill the role and excitement of two kids, because he deserves it. Yet, I can't do it.

He doesn't expect that or ask that of me, but there's something missing and I can't help but feel like I've been left with the responsibility to be 'the kids'. I can't be that, but I wish I could be, for my parents.

Many years ago we started the tradition of opening our presents on Christmas Eve. It first started with one gift, then the rest of the presents on Christmas morning. Eventually we just did the whole shebang on Christmas Eve, but saved the stockings for Christmas morning. We'd go to Christmas Eve church service, which was again, a painstakingly annoying process as a kid knowing there were presents awaiting us at home. Once church was over, we'd head home. Dad would read the Christmas story, prolonging the presents even longer, and finally we'd open all the presents. Christmas Day would start with the stockings, then we'd all help my mom cook the big Christmas meal. We would eat. My sister and I would then blast Gloria Estefan on the stereo and dance around the kitchen while cleaning up the meal mess together, making it an event. My parents would rest. That was our tradition.

Now we open presents on Christmas Eve because it takes some of the pressure off of Christmas Day. We do a modified Christmas meal, to mark the occassion but with slightly less fanfare. The first year I had to clean the kitchen after the meal on my own, I cried the entire time. Not because of the mounds of dishes I had to do all by myself. But just because I had to do it by myself.

This year we did everything on Christmas Eve, stockings included. We did a simple Christmas meal, and everyone helped with the preparation and the clean up. I think we needed it that way so that on Christmas Day none of us is expected to have Christmas cheer that just isn't there.

And to be quite honest, opening presents just doesn't hold the same excitement for me that it once did. I think I really could do without it all together. I enjoy getting things, and giving things. I love watching my parents open gifts. But it's just lost it's magic for me. I don't anticipate the present opening like I used to. I'm not even excited about it, even though I try to show excitement for my parents. I almost dread it, because it's this big family thing that we always did, and now it's messed up. I never spent a Christmas without all of us together until one of us wasn't here anymore. Now, it's just weird. It's like saving a place at dinner for someone who doesn't show up. It's awkward.

I almost don't want it to be good or fun. That feels harder to deal with than if I could let loose and really enjoy Christmas like I did when I was a kid.

It's proof to me that the presents and the stuff is not what Christmas is all about. I'd trade the presents for my sister's presence anyday. That may sound cheesy, but it's the simplest way to put it. I don't need more stuff. I need my family, complete and whole.

Overall, I enjoyed the opportunity to celebrate the holiday with my parents. I'm always thankful for that, even when we have our moments of getting on each other's nerves, and when all we can manage to do is sit in silence, mindful of each other's sadness. We generally don't just sit around and wallow in depression. We find things to do and we do the best we can to make Christmas a nice time for each other. But still, there are moments when we're just sad, and we have to respect that for each other.

Every year I grow more appreciative of the things we used to be able to do as a family, the memories we have, the stories we can tell now about Christmases past. One year, my sister and I had the brilliant idea to wrap my mom's gift in as much ribbon and tape as was humanly possible to fit on the gift. By the time we were done, it had grown several sizes from its original size. We were quite proud of what we had created, and I remember it being an extremely fun process. When it came time for my mom to open her gift, she acted amused by the gift that took awhile to get open. It was quite a monstrosity. My sister and I could barely contain ourselves, we thought it was so funny and ingenius. In truth, Mom was none too happy at our waste of all her ribbons and tape. But, she knew we'd had fun creating this 'special' wrapping job together, so she was a good sport about it then. It's now become one of those 'stories' that will be told at Christmases. Especially since none of us can remember what was inside the box as her gift once she finally penetrated the wrappings.

I miss the old Christmases and the traditions more and more every year. There was no warning that the last Christmas we all had together was the last one. I'm thankful that it was good.

I know that future Christmases will be good, and new things and people will come along to bring joy to the occasion. But for now, it's still hard. And weird. And it just doesn't seem right.

Of course, the best part of Christmas this year was that my dog is still with us. And, she was more spry and active than any of us expected for a fifteen year old, cancerous dog with a bad back. She keeps us smiling, especially when wearing her ridiculously ugly sweater. It's funny the places we find joy at Christmas, and the things that bless us and remind us to be thankful.

I had a good Christmas. It's hard to say that because it's not what I ever pictured Christmas to be for my family.

But even thought it's sad, somehow it can be good.

Yet, I can't help but be relieved that it's over again for this year. I need a full year to work up to it again for next year.

C.T.