I Dread The Holidays

by Corey Bu-Shea

She was the matriarch of our family. My Grandmother began preparing for Christmas the day after Thanksgiving. Our yearly ritual began with putting up the tree and other decorations. Next, it would continue with the fruitcake orders. Neighbors, family members, and various others would place their orders, and my Grandmother would run to the grocery store to assemble the ingredients. It was not unusual for her to make some 10–20 cakes in one holiday season.

A few days before Christmas, she would make one last grocery store run to assemble the ingredients for the actual dinner. She would take the turkey out of the freezer, and would allow it to lie in salt for several days, and then slide it in the oven on Christmas Eve. She would also prepare the pies: pecan, coconut, potato. There was nothing better than walking through our home and smelling the various scents, in anticipation for Christmas Day. Christmas Eve was also a time for wrapping gifts, which usually had been purchased weeks, if not months before. Finally, it was time for all of the out of town relatives to assemble. My Grandmother’s home had three bedrooms, but during Christmas time, it was not unusual for upwards of 20 people to be crammed in every corner of it, and sleeping arrangements were quite creative. It didn’t matter. We were a family, and being cramped for a few days was symbolic of our love.

But all of this changed in 2000. In November of this year, after a long struggle with heart disease and dementia, my Grandmother received her angel wings, and life for my family, and my life were never the same.

With 13 remaining children out of the 15 that she originally gave birth to, and 50 grandchildren, everyone wanted a piece of her, or at least the things that she left behind. Hurt feelings, accusations, and arguments ensued. Things said, deeds done, left many relationships in the family irrevocably broken.

Now at Christmas time, most of the family either has dinner with their in-laws, or make other long ranged plans with their immediate families. Christmas Eve, where there was usual fanfare and overall good cheer, has been replaced with a melancholy feeling of what used to be, and will never be again. A house that used to be filled with decadent smells and people crammed in every corner of it, stands empty, old, and devoid of all the things that used to make it great.

Since 2000 and my Grandmother’s death, I have never celebrated Christmas the same. In fact, there have been several years that I haven’t made it home at all, and tried every excuse that I could to avoid doing so. It is not the same. Walking in that house without my Grandmother’s loving presence, her great food, and loving smile, are too much to handle emotionally, Not to mention, I have several relatives who I would rather not see, due to unresolved hurt feelings, and harsh words spoken,

So I just cling to my memories of Christmas past. At least I am over the tears, and no longer have unrealistic expectations. I am finally at peace with the notion that Christmas will never be the same again!