October 24th, 2007
This morning I worked on an assignment until around lunch time, when I decided to head to Pacific Centre for the red curry and rice dish I love at the Thai Express. After a very satisfying lunch, I thought to myself that I was just not ready to come home and do more work, so I wandered into The Bay. And found Christmas Street. Christmas Street is the fifth floor, where all the aisles are hung with massive garlands and the first sight greeting you when you exit the elevator is a six foot tall wooden nutcracker. It’s trees and ornaments as far as the eye can see and the music is all carols.
You might be expecting me to get all snarky about Christmas at this point, but you would be wrong. I love the Christmas season. It’s the best time of the year, a whole month of happiness and warm feelings. When I stumbled upon Christmas Street, I had a totally unbidden rush of happiness – just pure happiness. I actually experienced a totally spontaneous smile. I immediately got on the phone and called Husband, who does not share the Christmas madness, and sounded pretty perplexed as to why I would call him just to say The Bay has ornaments for sale already. But I just had to share that moment with someone, that feeling of anticipation and goodness. It was such a surprise, walking into The Christmas when it isn’t even Halloween.
So I found myself a basket and picked out a bunch of ornaments to buy. Last year our tree was a little smaller than I expected – I had to prop it up on a box in order to get it to chest height, and I am a short woman. This year I plan to buy a new, bigger tree, so of course I’m going to need more ornaments. I was immersed in the Christmas happiness and spent a very pleasant hour fondling and selecting ornaments. (My rules about purchasing ornaments are these: only buy one of any given ornament, and only buy ornaments that make me happy. Christmas is not about matching or style, it is about colour and joy. Those single colour trees are sterile and soulless.)
Anyway, the thing about my first major Christmas awakening of the year is that it is always conflicted. At some point, usually when I’m decorating my tree, I am reminded powerfully of my gramma, and start to cry. She is of course dead, but while she was here, she was like a mother to me. I lived with her when I was very young, and never lived more than five minutes away until university. Gramma was an even bigger Christmas nut than I am – her entire house was full of decorations and ornaments and anything that would hold still was sprayed with fake snow for all of December. She wasn’t a rich woman, but she saved all year to buy presents for her large family and put a massive dinner on the table on the day. Some of my most precious memories of my early years involve her at Christmas, singing carols and baking and doing little craft projects to put up around the house. I guess the Christmas explosion she provided is such a special memory to me because it stands for what was real and vital in our relationship – love. This is an overused phrase, but in this case I believe it is true: my gramma loved me unconditionally, and I have not stopped hurting that she is dead.
So today, there I am, rifling ornaments, when it came to me – thoughts of her and Christmases past, and how it will never really be the same because she can never be here again. I figured I had better not indulge in a cry in public, so of course I didn’t, but it was hard. I am still surprised with the strength of my reaction when I think of her – it hasn’t really gotten much lessened in the years since she died. But it was also a positive experience, because though I miss her, I am also brought back to loving and happy memories. I imagined she would approve of my choices – a collection of clashing but colourful ornaments with a high percentage of sparkly or reflective items.
Anyway, I know it’s too early to put up a tree or anything, but I couldn’t resist getting my old ornaments out of storage and checking them out. So many of them were gifts or came from my childhood or were acquired in some other special way that it’s always a good trip down memory lane. I’m about to get back to work on my assignment but I wanted to blog briefly about this event because it’s got me thinking about appreciating those we love and have at hand. I didn’t spend enough time with my gramma right before she died and I will never forgive myself for that – and the lesson I took away is that there is nothing – nothing – more important in your life than putting time aside to be with your loved ones.