Holiday Ghosts

Poor December is a month that holds a lot of importance in most families' calendars.  The other months all seem to have their days, but December takes the cake...or is it cookie?...in terms of important dates and events.  Obviously Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are big deals, but when you have children there other big days throughout the month.  In our house, there are winter programs, band concerts, holiday choir concerts, Sunday School programs, Advent fests, Girl Scout cookie baking events, etc.  And this is all on top of the regular stuff that fills up our calendar.  The other thing about these events is that, at least for me, they have a special, hazy glow of "special-ness."  For example, there are several choir concerts throughout the year, but the Christmas one seems extra "special" because...well...Christmas.

Most everyone enjoys these sorts of things (I say "most" because I actually know a few people who wish the Holidays didn't exist).  Yes, despite the rare nay-sayer, we all kind of like all of the Holiday hub-bub.  However, I think most people who know me would say that I am a Holiday tradition addict. While most people love the holidays, I ****LOVE!!!!**** the Holidays.  But this year, I have to amend that sentence to read, "I usually ****LOVE!!!!*** the Holidays."   This year, the Holidays are tricky.  While we do all of the things we do every year from picking out a Christmas tree to deciding where to place the snowman decorations, there is grey fog clouding out the normal glittery golden glow to our Holiday preparations.  We keep doing these same things, but something is different. This year (and last) something is different.  And that makes me sad.  

You see, I'm married, albeit kind of unhappily, but still married...to a ghost.  In the eyes and experience of most people with whom I now spend time, my husband doesn't really exist.  If I'm invited to holiday gatherings, there seems (at least from my perspective) to be an unwritten, unspoken expectation that the invitation does not include my spouse.  He won't be attending any of the Holiday programs.  We won't send out a Holiday card with all of our smiling, merry faces.  When people ask me about our plans, I get a little bit panicky because those plans do involve him and I get filled with fear every time I have to discuss them.  It was not always this way.  I used to be cocooned in the warm glow of belonging to someone and I could wear that cocoon out in public for all the world to see.  Now, I'm shrouded in fear, confusion, and loneliness.  I'm the life of the party, y'all.  

To be clear, I write these words without blame and condemnation.  There are a 1,000,001 reasons why this is the way things are and 999,999 of them have nothing to do with "the public."  My little family is navigating a troubling, difficult time to define who we are, how we work, and how we are connected to one another.  If we are confused by all of this and a little scared to stake a claim in the public sphere, we can't hardly expect those around us to know how to handle us.  Hopefully, some day, it will all be clear. Hopefully, some day, we will know the best, right way to be. Until then, we are a family haunted by the ghosts of the past and living with a real, live ghost in our midst.  (well, not real, live ghost...but you know what I mean).  

So...I attend all of the things alone. While I am at these fests of merriment, I see the husbands interacting and joking around and helping their wives carry casserole dishes and containers of glitter. Today, at my church's Advent fest, my husband's former best friend was hanging out with all of these men and laughing and talking and I was happy for him.  But, that happiness was tainted by longing, sadness, and disappointment.  Once upon a time, he and and my husband would have been hanging together.  They would have been cracking jokes and visiting with one another.  I would have had help carrying my containers of glitter and Holiday snacks.  That used to be my life, but it really does feel like it was Once Upon A Time ago.

This year, the Holidays are not as glittery, not as golden, and not as merry.  The decorations are up, the cookies are being baked, the presents have been purchased and wrapped, and I will attend all of the things and, most of the time, I muster up the strength to draw from my reserve of jolliness to at least pretend joy in those moments.  And, to be clear, I do feel joy from time to time.  I love watching my girls do their things.  I just wish I could watch them with their dad, like the old days.  I wish we could watch them do their things and give each other sideways, knowing glances as we see our kids..the beautiful beings we made together...be so incredibly who they are in front of a crowd.  

It is hard being married to a ghost.  Really hard.  And it makes me wonder how many other people are married to ghosts too.  Maybe not actually *married* to the ghost, but haunted by something that dulls the glow of the Holiday season.  Of course, we all know that the Holidays aren't always merry for everyone, but knowing how that actually feels makes me wonder all the more about those folks. I'm not sure why I'm so preoccupied with all of these others and I'm not sure what good it would do to know about the other ghosts haunting this Holiday season.  Maybe it would make me feel less lonely.  Maybe it would make it easier to really enjoy the joyful moments if I knew other people had ghosts seated next to them at the Holiday events.  Maybe it would make me feel less different and broken. Maybe I just want to know who they are so I can give them a knowing glance, a quiet hug, and a little hand squeeze that communicates our mutual broken-ness without having to say even one word.  Maybe I want them to feel less lonesome in their loneliness.  

Whatever the reason,  I think about these haunted people.  I think about the ghosts who don't quite fit into their own lives.  I think about those people everyday and I say a quiet prayer on their behalf.  Maybe someone out there is doing the same for my husband and I.  

Merry Christmas, everyone.  Even the ghosts.