With my strand of outdoor colored bulbs showing quite a bit of wear and tear from the passing years, I abandoned them and returned to using white lights this year. I strung a single strand of white lights across the front of the house and, just as we did at our prior home, I wrapped the pillars in lights as well. The effect was lovely. That was Sunday.
I didn’t get around to decorating the tree until Monday night. The furniture moving task required was just a little overwhelming for me to do alone. I did my best, but I’m still not pleased with how things ended up. Since YaYa was itching to decorate tree, I knew that I could not hold him off any longer.
In an attempt to set the mood, I played holiday music in the kitchen while dinner was cooking. As usual, my multi-tasking meant that everything was at risk but I somehow managed to pull off a healthy and delicious dinner while pulling the indoor decorations from the garage.
While YaYa finished up his school work, I began placing the lights on the tree. Alone in the other room, a wave of loneliness rolled in. I kept hitting my head on a low hanging shelf as I worked – the photo of Tom knocking over with each blow. After a couple of times of up-righting it, I left it upturned on the shelf. It wasn’t as if Tom ever participated in the tree trimming. This was something which I did with the kids. BoBo’s absence was what troubled me most; a reminder of the aftershocks that hit our family post-death.
It just so happened that waiting on the kitchen counter was a note from BoBo which had arrived earlier in the day. I had yet to finish reading it. Now, seemed as good a time as any. I began reading.
Written while on a spiritual retreat, a sense of calmnes came through in his writing. In the letter, he thanked me for the many things I’ve done over the years. Attending all of his games, the unconditional love, and all the other things which mom’s (parents) do without ever expecting to be thanked. I enjoyed reading that part. The part that followed upset me.
There it was once more, the acknowledgement of some unwritten/unvoiced responsibility to step up to the plate as the man of the house. It’s honorable, but NOT what I want. I don’t know who put this burden on his shoulders. He might think that he is ready for this, but I can’t help but wonder what the cost would be. What I want is for my son to finish out his high school years in Hawaii — yes, away from me — where he is thriving and making a future for himself. But…how does a mom tell her son that she doesn’t want him to return home without it sounding as if she doesn’t want him? Instead of being joyful, I was sad.
After reading the note, I joined YaYa in the other room and together we began to trim the tree. Singing along to the Christmas carols, I did my best to put up a jolly front. But it was challenging. Ornaments, collected from BoBo’s 1st Christmas through 2007, each held a distinct memory. Our tradition of each family member receiving a new ornament, opening, and hanging it on the tree each Christmas Eve left so many memories to be confronted. Although the memories were happy ones, the sadness only grew stronger as each ornament was pulled from the boxes. When the tree was finally done, I looked on with dissatisfaction. Fortunately, YaYa was pleased.
In the family room, the stockings were hung on the mantel with the addition of a tree garland and another strand of white lights. Again, it looked lovely and yet felt all wrong.
I’d been torn with the decision of whether or not to hang Tom’s stocking this year. I opted to hang it but later, when YaYa asked why it was hung, I didn’t know how to reply. BoBo was my main thought when I’d hung it. He had been worried about us forgetting his Dad with my entry into dating. And even though I know that forgetting him would be impossible, I was making an effort to reassure him by hanging his father’s stocking. I know that my effort is no different than the many actions parents so often do to try to heal transitions such as these. The funny thing is, if YaYa questions it, BoBo may not want it either.
*long sigh*
Putting up the Christmas decorations was supposed to brighten up our days. I guess it is going to take something different — what exactly, I don’t know yet.
Very well written, I admire your approach to all of these issues. …and you are way ahead of us on the Christmas stuff!
Wow. It’s a tough situation. There are so many of those little things to trip you up.
I am afraid this will sound like a platitude, but I’ll say it anyway. Remember – we all set these high, high expectations for holidays, when in reality there are so many things involved that can catch our spirit unaware. You are having to change traditions, not out of want, but out of the twisting turns of life. That’s got to be hard. Parenting is such hard work, but I am confident that your love shines through. Do your best Juls, that’s all you can do.
Hugs to you, Juls.
I agree with Michelle on holiday expectations. It seems that you’re managing more than your fair share of others’ expectations this year. Yes, as the others have said, just do your best. (And rejoice in having your tree up already!)
I think its OK for Bobo to think he’s the man of the house. He IS after all. The only question is what responsibilities that entails. I think you are right in telling him his primary responsibility right now is to prepare himself for his future. That is what YOU need from him right now.
No. There doesn’t need to be a “man of the house.” I’m doing just fine. If I ever remarry, then he will be the man of the house. BoBo just needs to hold his life together and not worry about protecting me and contributing to the family income. It’s too much for a teen and DD certainly doesn’t hold these considerations. Why should BoBo?