So this is Christmas / and what have you done?
Another year over / a new one just begun
I’m feeling different this holiday season.
It’s no secret that I struggle with Christmas overall, with all the commercialism and escapism. It’s just that I find most Christmas themes to be totally out of touch with what’s important. And I have a hard time breaking away from the state of things to celebrate a historically inaccurate holiday. (I’m fun, I promise.)
Maybe that’s why John Lennon’s 1971 Christmas song — the one that doubles as an anti-war protest song — stands out to me from the arsenal of holiday tunes. Happy Xmas (War Is Over) is a song of hope, but not without a healthy dose of realism. And more than any other Christmas song, I think it captures the human condition and the complex emotions that holidays bring.
War is over / if you want it
It allows a moment of pause and reflection amid the festivities. A glimpse into what’s possible. In previous years, I found this song to be a source of comfort — a sort of deliverance, maybe, from whatever war I’d been waging (or experiencing, or protesting) in my own life. A chance to look forward and say, how do I resolve this? What war am I prolonging for the sake of fighting it? What would my heart rather be focused on?
For many years, that’s been a welcome moment of reflection. And I’m usually good at balancing the cynicism with the joy of family and laughter and slowing down.
But my dad’s dad died in September, and my mom’s dad died two weeks ago. It’s my first holiday without my grandfathers.
Happy Xmas (War Is Over) is the only Christmas song I can consider listening to this year. Everything else is either trite or tasteless (unless it’s Blue Christmas, which has the potential to emotionally sock me into next month). But this year, even Happy Xmas doesn’t bring me the comfort it usually does — the comfort of, “yeah, it’s been rough, but come together and look forward to better days ahead.”
I just feel dread. I feel myself wishing that Christmas could come a little later. It’s just not good timing right now, is all. It hasn’t been good timing for a long time. Maybe later it’ll be better. Maybe in a couple months I could stomach it.
But right now, I just really don’t want to tick the box of “first Christmas without the grandfathers.” I don’t want to begin a new year they won’t see.
I’ll say this: There is so much I’m grateful for in this season of life — the time I spent with my mom’s dad in his last weeks, the opportunity to step up for my grandmothers, the chance to be closer with my family.
But I’m tired of framing their deaths in the positives, in what I’ve learned, in what I’ve gained. I don’t want to look on the bright side. I don’t want to pretend to be happy that it’s the holidays. I don’t want a distraction. I lost my grandpas. I just want to grieve.
I want to cling close to their memories, to be very still with the sadness, to give myself time to miss them, to remember the days when we did have it all.
In the quiet of remembrance, I can hear Pappap’s laugh after he tells the same joke he’s told for years. I can see Grandpa’s hands as he animates a story I can recite word for word. And I see the onyx on my mother’s hand, the carnelian on my own.
So, this is Christmas. The holidays are different this year, and I’m okay with different. Amid the death, life continues.
