Yes we are expecting another windstorm tonight, but that’s not the kind of storm I mean. I mean a storm of tears and great gulping sobs that hit me hard last night and left me shaken and exhausted. I cried through wrapping presents for Craig’s family. I cried through dinner. I cried through baking pumpkin bread. I cried through folding laundry.
See, it just hit me really hard when I was wrapping all these gifts for my in-laws that I had none to wrap for my own family. Pop, of course, is gone, for the first Christmas in my entire life. My son and daughter-in-law asked for a break from gift-giving this year as they are trying to save money to buy a house. And I totally support them in that, because I get cranky about all the consumerism this time of year anyway. But I still felt sad I had no gift to wrap for them. No gift to wrap for Pop.
I was assembling the ingredients for the pumpkin bread and went out to the garage to get more eggs. And there was Pop’s favorite chair, with a leg that was broken during the Lucia party. It had been my
grandmother’s chair before it was his and I’ve had it since my childhood. I’m not angry at the friends who accidentally broke it; I’m just sad that it’s broken. I hope it’s fixable. We’ll have to find a good woodworker to repair it. Anyway I brought it back into the house, not wanting it to get damp and possibly more damaged while waiting for a trip to town. I put it back in its accustomed place, by the window, next to the tree . . . and burst into tears. It just looked so empty. And the storm of emotions broke, wave upon wave upon wave.
Ah. This season. Sometimes the imagery of dark and light is just too much. Light shining in the darkness, the birth of the Child of Wonder, the Return of the Sun. Which at this point, we just need to take on faith. It’s nasty and cold and windy outside. Again.
I think I’ll go listen to Rufus sing “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” It’s so schmaltzy, it always makes me smile.