When Its Real
I've been thinking about Christmas. Shocker right? I've been wondering how we'll pull it off, pull it together and come out smiling. It struck me yesterday while I was cleaning poop, yes - poop, off the wall of the bathroom. Yes... the wall.
(Note: If something is bugging you, I highly recommend meditating on it while scrubbing poop off of things. Not sure if the bleach fumes, the anger at your 3 1/2 year old for thinking the wall is a good place for his poop has anything to do with finding clarity... but I think in this instance it did.)
I have written about Christmas before on the old blog. Happy, happy times. We were blessed to have parents who went way above and beyond in their attempts to fill our brains with happy memories. So many people hate the holidays because of the stress of it all. But we were spared all that. We didn't have extravagance, but what we lacked in materialism we made up for in joviality.
I think this is exactly what will carry us. We have so much to look back on and smile about. We have such strength when we're together. We can sit around a table and laugh at the many Christmas mornings, the crazy Christmas Eve parties. The keg on the kitchen counter, running to the neighbor's house at midnight in the snow. Jamming 40 or 50 people at a time in my mom's tiny kitchen. Singing and laughing until the sun came up.
The annual placing of baby Jesus in the manger. An honor that was bestowed upon me until Pat was old enough to help out. And by "help out" I mean a screaming match between us over who did it the year before and a very detailed account of how this was remembered. Something like:
Me: You did it last year! Remember? You wanted to put real hay in the thing and I said not to because that's gross. And then grandma said not too as well because the straw from the hill was wet and it'll rot out the manger. So, I know you did it last year.
Pat: Nuh-uh Jenn! You did last year because you cried! You promised I could do it this year. Its no FAIR!!! MOM!!!
Grandma: You can both do it alright!!! Both of you get over here and hold the baby Jesus. Jenn, get over there and help!! There. Now you both hold it and you BOTH put it in. Good Lord! Its freaking Christmas! Dad, get the camera! Now smile and knock it off!
And... scene.
Cut to 11pm. Patrick and I trying to fall asleep so Santa would come. Kathy would poke her head in our bedroom door every so often and try to convince us that she heard bells and if we wanted presents... we better close our eyes and quick.
Trying to sleep with my dad's booming laugh blasting through the house and my brother Jim's "Ye-haw's!" that could shake the walls and shimmy the windows wasn't exactly easy. Add in the normal Christmas excitement and the idea of sleep was nearly impossible. Lots of, "Pat, are you asleep yet?" "No. Are you?" would go on until finally no answer would come to me in the dark. The even breaths of sleep filling the air. The moonlight shining softly on his pale skin, his stuffed ET snuggled in under an arm, Patrick's big brown eyes closed in an uneasy but much-needed sleep.
Everyone was at our house on Christmas Eve.
All that happiness, all that water under the bridge, all those good feelings and honest caring. This is what will bring us through. Missing Patrick will be a big part of the holiday. As it is every day. He loved it as much as I do, as my siblings do. Because for us, it isn't false. It isn't something totally different than any other time we're all together. Its a normal Sunday but with gifts and lots more food. But other than that, the smiles are just as genuine. The hugs and "love you's" are just as meaningful.
When you don't have to fake it, when its real... that "it" carries you.
(Note: If something is bugging you, I highly recommend meditating on it while scrubbing poop off of things. Not sure if the bleach fumes, the anger at your 3 1/2 year old for thinking the wall is a good place for his poop has anything to do with finding clarity... but I think in this instance it did.)
I have written about Christmas before on the old blog. Happy, happy times. We were blessed to have parents who went way above and beyond in their attempts to fill our brains with happy memories. So many people hate the holidays because of the stress of it all. But we were spared all that. We didn't have extravagance, but what we lacked in materialism we made up for in joviality.
I think this is exactly what will carry us. We have so much to look back on and smile about. We have such strength when we're together. We can sit around a table and laugh at the many Christmas mornings, the crazy Christmas Eve parties. The keg on the kitchen counter, running to the neighbor's house at midnight in the snow. Jamming 40 or 50 people at a time in my mom's tiny kitchen. Singing and laughing until the sun came up.
The annual placing of baby Jesus in the manger. An honor that was bestowed upon me until Pat was old enough to help out. And by "help out" I mean a screaming match between us over who did it the year before and a very detailed account of how this was remembered. Something like:
Me: You did it last year! Remember? You wanted to put real hay in the thing and I said not to because that's gross. And then grandma said not too as well because the straw from the hill was wet and it'll rot out the manger. So, I know you did it last year.
Pat: Nuh-uh Jenn! You did last year because you cried! You promised I could do it this year. Its no FAIR!!! MOM!!!
Grandma: You can both do it alright!!! Both of you get over here and hold the baby Jesus. Jenn, get over there and help!! There. Now you both hold it and you BOTH put it in. Good Lord! Its freaking Christmas! Dad, get the camera! Now smile and knock it off!
And... scene.
Cut to 11pm. Patrick and I trying to fall asleep so Santa would come. Kathy would poke her head in our bedroom door every so often and try to convince us that she heard bells and if we wanted presents... we better close our eyes and quick.
Trying to sleep with my dad's booming laugh blasting through the house and my brother Jim's "Ye-haw's!" that could shake the walls and shimmy the windows wasn't exactly easy. Add in the normal Christmas excitement and the idea of sleep was nearly impossible. Lots of, "Pat, are you asleep yet?" "No. Are you?" would go on until finally no answer would come to me in the dark. The even breaths of sleep filling the air. The moonlight shining softly on his pale skin, his stuffed ET snuggled in under an arm, Patrick's big brown eyes closed in an uneasy but much-needed sleep.
Everyone was at our house on Christmas Eve.
All that happiness, all that water under the bridge, all those good feelings and honest caring. This is what will bring us through. Missing Patrick will be a big part of the holiday. As it is every day. He loved it as much as I do, as my siblings do. Because for us, it isn't false. It isn't something totally different than any other time we're all together. Its a normal Sunday but with gifts and lots more food. But other than that, the smiles are just as genuine. The hugs and "love you's" are just as meaningful.
When you don't have to fake it, when its real... that "it" carries you.
i made the mistake reading this at work i wish i was home and i will TRY to get through this NOT reading this is yesturday love you jenn kate
ReplyDeleteJenn I love reading your blog - mostly because I am blessed to have shared a lot of your family's memories. Christmas Eve was always the best on Sherwood, everyone gathering at your house, the Cormiers, Massey's, Ribeiro's, Zebrowski's we all popped in to share some Nog and a shot of something else. Priceless. I know the holidays will be so hard for your family, especially Kate and I think of her and all of you every day. Your writing and memories are therapeutic - keep it up. Reminicing about Pat brings on the tears - that can't be helped - but it also brings on the healing. I love all you guys like brothers and sisters. We are family. God Bless - Annie
ReplyDeleteJenn you Currans are the real deal. I will always cherish the Christmas Eve party's at the Currans. Our neighborhood families coming together in celebration. We really were one big family. Mrs. Cormier leading us off with "alouette"- you could probably hear us singing from Canada. We could always expect to end the evening in a huddle, swaying back-and-fourth, singing "Turn the Page". We may have grown separately over the years, but one things for sure... we've never grown apart. And like you said, we never had to fake it. Wishing you all peace this Christmas Eve. Love Lisa Page
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