December 17th, 2009 by Cy

Crimbo is coming. I am having an extremely difficult time this year with the idea of celebrating the holidays. <– That statement sounds so wrong, so misleading; because I have always somehow celebrated The Winter Holidays.

But the truth is… well… I always acted like I celebrated Christmas, sorta.

As a young girl with an abusive mother, I had no real Christmas’s. At least not the type of Christmas’s my peers experienced. Without going into horrid details, I will state, 90% of my Christmas’s during my youth I was tending wounds meted out by an angry woman who only pretended to dote on her daughter. The gifts given to me – by obligation, so she would look like a good mother, would later that day be used to beat me while she spoke of how undeserving I was. I’d never see them again – being told only that they would be given to “Good little girls who deserve presents on Christmas.”

95% of the time, if I could lie and state I’d be at someone else’s house for Christmas, I would. Then, I’d go snuggle up in my favorite little cave on our island and I’d enjoy a solitary Christmas in the forest. By the time I was a teen, my mother lived across the country and I was able to make up excuses not to fly across the United States. I’d lie and state Daddy was not deployed when he really was – and during those glorious years, I’d hole up in the house, again with magnificent solitude.

Although that might sound horrid to you, those solitary holidays of my youth were absolute heaven for me. I wasn’t encumbered by all the holiday trappings and since  I was alone I could go out into my community and do small things that made a difference. I shoveled snow past the midnight hours so people awoke to clear paths. I left baked goods in the mud rooms of all the peoples homes who often watched over me. I would use my ill gotten money to buy gifts for less fortunate kids and leave them on their door steps. I’d decorate live tree’s in the forest with corn cobs and berries and popcorn so the critters had presents too.  Under these decorated trees, I cut open pumpkins and squash I had saved from Halloween. I left them wide open so critters could eat their seeds and fruit. I sprinkled bread crumbs in the Wrangell Narrows for the fishies, and I watched as Eagles, not angels soared the skies.

I loved those Christmas’s. I loved being invisible yet giving. I loved the solitary. I loved that while the rest of the world struggled with holiday stresses, gift stresses, food stresses, I was at peace with myself and my world. To be honest with you, it wasn’t until after I was 17 that I even knew how many families celebrate Christmas.  As a little girl I knew the woman who raised me was awful – and NOT filled with Christmas spirit. It was she who taught me – by negative example- of what Christmas should be about.

The Christmas’s of my young adulthood, from 16 or so, until I became a mother myself – were working Christmas’s. I stood duty, so others might go home. They too were awesome days, because again I was unfettered with Holiday Fluff.

When my first son was born, I had 8 months to decide how to have Christmas for my child. Alone, as a single mother…. I wanted to be sure my son felt the same incredible, addictive beauty of Christmas. But he was only 8 months old – how could he give to others instead of receiving? The idea came to me as I volunteered at a local Retirement home – I’d bring my son in on Christmas day so those who had no family had someone to cuddle.

My oldest son was a mere 8 months old when he was first read 33 Christmas Bedtime stories. He sat in the laps of 15 different residents as each played a  Christmas carol on the piano – allowing him to plink at the keys as babies do. He was covered in more kisses then Hersey’s could ever dream of making and it was a glorious Christmas for all of us. It also started the tradition of not celebrating Christmas in “our” home.

For the next 3 years we went to the same home every Christmas eve and Christmas day. By the time my son was 4 years old, he expressed his own desire to do something for Christmas. He’d learned about the homeless, and the soup kitchen and wanted to serve meals there. During his school Christmas break we did that – every day. Christmas morning I always had a small gift for my child, just a couple of things, and that year was the year I faced the fact that someone wanted to give to me. My son came to me and asked for X-mas money. he “Had to procure a gift for his mother” (yes those were his words – he was EXTREMELY intelligent) I gave him what he asked for and then quickly left him to his ways.

That Christmas morning, I awoke to my little man standing above me on my bed. sprinkling down from his hands were blue flower petals. Rose petals.

“Happy Holidays Momma. Merry Christmas! Happy Birthday Baby Jesus!” he cried as he tossed, bent over scooped up, and re-tossed the blue rose petals.

I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. He hopped to a sitting position and began softly scooping rose petals onto my cheeks. As he did such, he explained.

“I wanted to get you roses Momma. But I did not have enough money, so I overcame and adapted. I asked for rose petals – minus the stems. They can’t charge me the same amount if I don’t buy the stems right?”

Tears fluttered to my eyes. Only a child could make that sound logical. Soft petals fluttered on my head, my hair, my eyes and cheeks as he giggled. “Do you know why they are blue Momma? Ask me why, go ahead – ask me.”

I laughed and obliged. “Why are they blue Little Man?”

My son sat still and his eyes glared down into my soul. “Some cultures believe that Blue Roses mean attaining the impossible. They mean mystery and imagination!” he said ever so seriously. “But I say Blue Roses mean the color of True Love Momma. Cuz I love you truly. Merry Christmas!” he shouted gleefully.

As I wrapped him in a grand and glorious hug, he nestled into my arms and his voice became little again. “Someday Momma, I’ll have enough to buy you the whole rose – not just petals!”

*tears*

That was the first year I received Blue Roses for Christmas. As my second son came into our lives, My eldest taught the littlest about the Blue Rose Petals and their meaning. My eldest also taught my littlest about how we did Christmas in our family. We didn’t have gobs of presents or tons of decorations. We spent the days leading to the holidays and through new years at homeless shelters, hospitals, retirement homes, nursing homes.. anywhere we could make a difference.

In my little family, we began planning all our activities in August. As others shopped or decorated or partied, we raised money, we visited those in need, we served and lived and loved and laughed with those less fortunate then us.

The amazing thing was, every year I vowed to myself to give my sons a “Traditional Christmas” and every year as we begin to discuss the coming holiday, I’d try to convince them we should do a “regular Christmas”

Every year they cried, “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!”. My sons loved doing for others as much as I did. They didn’t want presents or toys or parties. They wanted to be with people who weren’t about all that.

The last year my sons were alive for Christmas we returned from the local Nursing home to find four huge vans in my driveway. It was Christmas Eve. I kept the boys in the car as I approached the strangers. In less then 5 minutes I was shocked beyond words that not only had every Marine on the nearby base purchased toys for my boys, but two other vans arrived bearing gifts from the local Nursing Home residents who’d watched my sons grow up.

I tried to explain we didn’t do traditional gift giving like that. I tried to explain I was not poor, I could buy lots of gifts, my sons just didn’t want them.  But the people from 6 large vans and 3 cars, would not hear it. This was THEIR GIFT to my sons. I called a neighbor and had these people wait at her house while I put the boys to bed. The whole time I was in shock.

After my sons were sound asleep, these Christmas Elves went to work. My living room was 18 X22 and HUGE. They ended up moving all of my furniture into the dinning room simply to fit all the gifts they brought. 4 different organizations. Two Nursing Homes, One Church who ran a soup kitchen and the jarheads on the base. When they left that night. I had a 3′x2′ space at the entrance to my living room to stand in. The gifts were literally hip deep. 4 bikes, 2 scooters, ……….on and on and on.

It was…………….. amazing! Unreal! Totally Mind Blowing!! and I cried for over and hour.

Christmas Morning I awoke to my Blue Rose Petal Shower. Then I went down to make coffee, like I always did as the boys made their beds. Carefully, I went into the living room and crawled on back of couch, perched with camera ready…….. and then the boys came down.

They literally stopped, went silent and stood there gasping for breath as they eyed the filled room. My littlest son yelped, “But momma, did other kids get presents?” as if he were in pain. My Eldest shook his head and tears ran down his face. “I wasn’t this good this year!”

Oh how I marveled at their humility and abject shock. They did not want to open things, claiming these could not be for them. I had to tell them where all the gifts came from so they knew it was no mistake. Santa hadn’t left everyones presents at their house.

Then and only then, with great trepidation did they begin to allow the child in them to take over. Each and every present was carefully unwrapped. OOOOOH and AHHHHHED over, examined and then remarked to me about how grateful they were to have a new “Whatever item is”.

It took us 4 hours to wade through it all. 4 hours! And my boys laughed, and giggled, and hooted, and hollered and just lived it up. After the unwrapping I went to make breakfast, leaving them to their piles. I was making scrambled eggs when to sullen boys approached me in the kitchen.

“Momma,” My Eldest son started, speaking for the both of them. “We decided, we will keep a few things, but most of this stuff would be great at the children’s hospital. For their new playroom?”

I looked at my boys who stood nervously watching my eyes.

“I knowd dez iz pressies Momma” my littlest man said. “But we gots lots and sick kids dont. Can we take em and share them please?”

I stopped what I was doing and knelt down in front of them. There is NO WORDS I can put here in this post to tell you how proud of my sons I was in that moment. “How about we eat first then we will start taking these down there? Okay?”

Two sets of loving arms flung themselves around my neck. I cried tears as my sons squealed “Momma you’re the best!!!”  because I would allow them to do this. All I could think of was how I *SO* wasn’t the best – THEY WERE.

It took us two days to transport all those toys. I only had a Geo Prism so I could not pack as much as the original gift bearers did. For those two days my sons were in their glory watching sick kids have an amazingly huge Christmas while in a hospital. When it was all said and done, as I tucked them in that night, both boys crowed the same words. “This is the best Christmas EVER Momma. Did you see all the kids happy?”

“Yeah baby, I did. You did good. I am so proud of you.”

“Next year Momma, Next year you get blue roses, cuz Brett will be 11 and I will be 4″ AJ said as he hugged me tight.

I kissed them goodnight and went to my room and cried with pride. It was the best Christmas EVER. I saw sooooooooo much joy and laughter and love.

It was also our last Christmas. They died the next May. That was Christmas of 1997.

*tears*

Since their death, I continued on their tradition of helping others. Don’t let anyone fool you, not even me. Losing your child is a hell of no other form. It got easier over the years for me. and I am okay now. I miss them, but I am okay. I survived.

Then along comes this year, this Christmas and suddenly I am not so well at being okay.

I’m here in Kansas City. I am surrounded by friends who love me deeply. I won’t be in Michigan for Crimbo, obviously. For so many reasons I am not listing here. But it is in the staying here that made me realize, I am struggling with this Holiday season. You see… here, in Kansas City, I am surrounded by people I love and adore. All of whom actively celebrate Christmas holidays.

I won’t be alone. Far from it. I will be celebrating this holiday with not one family, or two – but Six! Obviously I will be celebrating with @TheWocket and roomies. I will be celerating at the Family of Choice Christmas at The Bartz’s home in Kansas. Then I will be with @TheWocketFamily, with The Cerra family, With the Wilks Family and on New Years with the Hufford Family.

All these familys are filled with love and traditions and awesomeness.  And many have been asking me what I “want” for Christmas. I tried. I tried telling them I wanted for nothing. I’ve never – except for my boys really – recieved during Christmas. For me it wasn’t about that.

And it has been learning the how’s and why’s of these familys and their traditions that I realized something. This will be the first Christmas I actually and honestly celebrate – since my sons death.

Yes since they died I celebrated. I stayed busy, dumping my soul into doing for others so I didn’t feel the huge hole left by the death of my sons.

This year as the holidays approach, I realized I had not truly been celebrating at all – but avoiding.

So I am scared. I don’t know how to celebrate the holidays and I don’t want to ruin their holidays. I hope that I don’t. I pray that I somehow manage to find a way to see, I can celebrate this holiday despite my abnormal exposure to it in my past.

I don’t want to have any family feel I am being stand offish because I sit observing. I hope they know that this year is the first year I am celebrating the holidays – as they should be celebrated – with loved ones. And as such it is…………. worrisome.

I never meant to be hard to shop for (as people have claimed I am.) I know it’s been hard – but how do I say to you when you ask me, What do you want for Christmas? ”Blue Roses….. not just petals”

Because honestly – that’s what I want……. Blue Roses not just petals and not just surviving through the holidays. I want the love and joy and laughter that those Blue Roses I never got symbolize.

So…………… If you’re still reading this……… Go out before Christmas, pick someone you love and then go to a florist shop. get a single Blue Rose on a long stem and give it to your loved one. When they give you that confused look, simply tell them “Blue Roses mean true love – and i love you truly.”

I promise, it will be the Christmas Gift they NEVER FORGET!

And to all my friends and families here. Hang in there with me please. Sometimes learning to live is even harder then you think.

But I live – and learn…..

Why not – right?