1. Christmas Eve 1999

I have always loved Christmas. I loved the wholesome and colourful atmosphere during the cold grey Zurich winter days. The short days in the European winter seemed never ending. The weather is dreary, the ground is slippery, and mostly everyone is in a depressed mood. However, when Christmas is just around the corner a warm and cheerful feeling embraces the city. The yellow, green and red lights brighten the dark late afternoon across the buildings, shops decorate their widows with pine leaves and colourful bobbles, street vendors are selling roasted chestnuts and the ‘Fairy Tale Tram’ is driving through the city. To top it off my mother got some time off work to spend the days at home with me and my grandmother. We celebrated the Christmas days together in our decorated, warm and safe home. We had everything we needed and more, considering all the presents under our tree.
After a light lunch my mother and I would go on our traditional pre-Christmas Eve dinner walk. This was a long walk in the forest, most of the time we choose to go Uetliberg. It was cold and steep, but it was just the two of us in the woods. We talked about everything and made memories. This was mainly her method of distracting me from the excitement of the presents. Once we arrived back home each of us would get ready for the Christmas dinner. This would involve getting clean, setting the table with the silver cutlery and Christmas table cover and finally dressing in our finest attire.
We made our own traditions. Our Christmas Eve dinner consisted of one whole small chicken with potato croquets and winter greens. For Christmas Day my grandmother would serve her traditional Romanian dish ‘Sarmale’, seasoned mince wrapped in a cabbage leaf with sour cream on the side. After dinner we would sit around the Christmas tree and it was my responsibility to pass the presents to my mother and grandmother. The atmosphere was always perfect, my little family together for the next few days, everyone happy, content and relaxed, just enjoying the cosiness that was our home. That’s what I was used to.
In the evening of December 23rd my mother finally came home from work. I was very excited for her to be home with us for the next four days, I only ever saw her in the evenings and on weekends. After dinner we were getting ready to go to bed and I was rambling on about tomorrow’s Christmas festivities, I was 12 years old at the time. My mother sat on the edge of the bed, vaguely listening to me, giving me short distracted answers with a pale face. After I asked if she was OK she said that her chest is unusually red, that there’s some kind of rash there. I tried to reassure her that it might’ve been an allergic reaction, but that didn’t seem to calm her. “What do you think it could be?”, I asked. “I’m worried that it might be cancer. I’ll head to the hospital tomorrow for a check-up.” We slept in the same bed that night.
The next day, Christmas Eve, my mother woke up early to head to the hospital. I was annoyed that she wasn’t at home with me, but at least she told us that she’ll be back by lunch time and we’ll head off to the forest for our pre-dinner walk. It was after 5pm when my mother finally came back home, later than when she normally arrived home from work. I was very relieved that she had finally arrived home and ran to the door to great her. My grandmother was there first.
“What did they say? What is it? Did you find out?”
Looking down and avoiding eye contact, my mother replied with all the energy gone from her voice, “It’s breast cancer.”
Thinking back, I can’t imagine what my mother must have been going through that day, all by herself. From the moment the doctor told her to when she had to tell her family the devastating news. She had nobody by her side. While we were eagerly waiting for her arrival at home she was going through several tests feeling numb, anxious and uncertain. She had no choice but to face the news head on.
My grandmother called out to God, asking why something like this would happen to her girl, then asked my mother what the next steps are, then she called God again and walked into her room whilst talking loudly to herself. My mother quietly went to her room and got changed for dinner, she still dressed up for our Christmas Eve dinner, as this was tradition and I stood in the hallway wondering what was going to happen.
After everyone got changed my mother met me in the kitchen to help bring all the food out to the dining table. She looked exhausted and drained.
“So, how bad is cancer really?”, I asked.
“It’s quite bad.”
“But the doctors will have a way for you to get rid of it, right?”
“I hope so.”
“And everything will be back to the way it was in no time, right?”
“I don’t think you understand how serious this illness is.” She left the kitchen leaving me speechless. She was right.
