Family Gatherings
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If it were up to my grandmother, holidays other than her birthday* wouldn’t exist. Still, I would try to decorate the house a little for Christmas, Easter, and Halloween. For Christmas, I would drag out some of my grandmother’s old decorations to put up in our living room. By old decorations, I mean the ones from when my grandfather was alive and her kids were younger. She decided I was allergic to Christmas trees, because I was always sick around this time of the year, so we couldn’t have a real one. There was a small artificial tree, but some years she wouldn’t want to bother getting it down from our attic. Other years I was allowed to decorate it and I really loved the lights and all of those old ornaments. I would sit in the rocking chair and doze off while admiring the lights and ornaments. For Halloween, we didn’t go trick-or-treating or give out candy because my grandmother always said I was too old. Even when I was little, we never participated beyond a couple of appearances at my elementary school Halloween events. I had these little poster board decorations that I would scotch tape to our front windows because I wanted to participate in some way. I also think she considered Halloween “unchristian” but probably mostly she just didn’t want to be bothered with holidays. In the spring, a couple of weeks before Easter, I would tie plastic eggs to the bushes outside and we had a blow-up Easter bunny that I would put out on our front porch.
This was probably one of my mother’s favorite holidays because she could drop off a basket without having to see me. Looking back now, I can just imagine her bragging to her friends about what a good mother she was by preparing a Pinterest-worthy Easter basket but without the time or emotional commitment that came with visiting the child she abandoned. I’m guessing she didn’t tell her friends about that part. I remember that my grandmother would distract me when she knew my mother was going to drop off my Easter basket and then she was gone again.
For Christmas someone in the family, usually my aunt, would volunteer to host a dinner at her house or we would meet at a restaurant like Quincy’s or something similar. When we had gatherings at my aunt’s house, my approach was to not eat much during the day so I could stuff myself at dinner, especially if my mother was making her cherry cheesecake and turkey stuffing. I was always excited about these gatherings, mostly because it was something novel, a rare time to see all of my family, and especially the years my mother was there. But coupled with excitement there was always anxiety. One year my aunt was hosting Christmas at her house and she invited her brother’s son, which caused a massive fight that lasted for months. My uncle was divorced from his his son’s mother and had as little to do with him as possible. He paid child support down to the exact court-ordered amount, and not a penny more, at least according to my grandmother. My uncle issued his sister an ultimatum — if his son was invited, then he wasn’t coming. Then they argued and my grandmother got involved. I think my cousin came and his dad stayed home that Christmas. My grandmother and her son didn’t speak for several months and she never let anyone forget about it. It came up often, rehashing the story over and over. Eventually, after about six months or so, they started speaking again but I doubt she ever forgave him. It’s a little strange she got so upset with her son for neglecting his child, but never said a word about my mother’s neglect.
I was usually invited and would arrive with my grandmother and Bob. My grandmother had a quirk about always being the last to arrive at anyone’s house so her car was parked at the end of the driveway. She always said she wanted to be able to leave without asking people to unblock her car, but now I wonder if her desire to get there last and leave first wasn’t a sign that she didn’t really want to be there in the first place.
Another source of anxiety for me was never knowing where to sit. My mother and her husband, if she was married, or boyfriend if she wasn’t, was there so I never knew if I was allowed to sit near her or if I should be seated near my grandmother. Most always, I sat near my grandmother and Bob and I would try to observe and take in as much of my mother as I could from a distance. Overall, I enjoyed and looked forward to holiday gatherings, especially the ones where my mother made cherry cheesecake and her stuffing, but looking back I can recognize my anxiety and the ways in which I was unsure how to behave. It seems to me now that as rarely as I saw my mother as a child that my mother would want to sit near me or my grandmother would have encouraged it.
I think they all would have been perfectly happy if I hadn’t been there at all, because I was a reminder of what my mother did and all the lies and secrets they all had to keep. When I got older my aunt made my schedule because we worked at the same store and so it was easy to just schedule me to work during family gatherings. I know I missed one major holiday gathering and who knows how many more. Eventually I would only hear about times they got together when someone let it slip afterwards.
When I was young, my mother saw me only a few times a year at these holiday get-togethers and on my birthday, but only if it suited her. My grandmother told me that one year I was sick on my birthday and my mother refused to come visit me, not even to drop off my presents. Usually, for my birthday and Christmas, my mother would bring my presents in a giant black yard waste garbage bag. I’m not sure why, since they were wrapped, she felt like she needed to put them in a garbage bag. Now, looking back, it seems symbolic how she was delivering presents in trash bags to her throwaway child. But as a kid, I was thrilled! I was getting time in proximity to my mother and of course, I loved new toys and clothes.
On my 12th birthday, because my birthday was a day after my aunt’s husband’s birthday, we had a combined party. There may have been cake, but I definitely remember we got Pizza Hut because that was a really rare treat to me and that my skinny self ate two slices of pepperoni pizza that day. But other than that one, I couldn’t tell you of another time our family did anything for my birthday. I know we usually had a cookout or went out for my grandmother’s birthday and for my other cousin, B, the golden child of the family. Maybe we did something for other family members’ birthdays, but I only remember we made a fuss over those.
*We always celebrated my grandmother’s birthday whether it meant all of us gathering at my aunt’s house for a cookout or meeting at a restaurant. I also remember how upset she was when she found out her birthday wasn’t on the day she’d thought. I don’t know how she made it into her 60s without ever needing her birth certificate for anything, but she finally did need it for something, and she found out it was a day earlier or later than what she’d known. She was upset, telling me this story and feeling like she’d been lied to her whole life. I barely resisted telling her that if she thought that was bad then I had a doozy of a story for her!
