A Year of Mixed Blessings: My Reflective Christmas 2019

As the holiday season unfolded, my 2019 Christmas was a mix of the same old and unexpected changes. The regalia of a typical Christmas 2019 included the perplexing gifts from Secret Santa, my nephew's crankiness, and the quaint tradition of a home-cooked feast. Yet, there were notable differences that brought a shade of novelty to this year's celebration.

Change and Tradition

Like many families, our Christmas lunch at Gina's was a predictable yet enjoyable occurrence. This year, however, there were some significant differences. Family gatherings have been a staple, but this year, as in previous ones, it was the same mix of people and activities—delving into the usual festivity of Secret Santa, but, sadly, our nephew's unfortunate behavior and constant need for his mother to discipline him. The background of this 2019 Christmas is like a regular family affair, with the usual system of exchanging gifts, preparing a large meal, and playing traditional games.

A Different Meal

In a subtle yet noticeable change, we had Ham instead of Turkey. Despite the cherished family tradition of the latter, we decided to change this particular year. Moreover, due to various unfortunate circumstances, we decided to stay in Thunder Bay, which was no different from our earlier years. Nevertheless, this break from our usual routine of 18-hour drives to visit family felt like the best decision.

Minimal Effort, Maximum Joy

The highlight of the proceeding feast was the minimal effort yet maximal joy. I managed to whip up a hearty meal in just an hour, which included soup with Hungarian noodles, ham, roasted potatoes, a salad, and store-bought ice cream. This streamlined approach did wonders to maintain the spirit of Christmas without the stress.

However, the fun was cut short by an anxious moment when I worried about the “Del Reeves CD” that I had ordered from Amazon. While not a typical part of the Christmas experience, it distracted from the joy of the moment.

New Hopes and Old Resentments

The reunion was also laden with new hopes and old resentments. My youngest brother, still alive at the ripe age of 63, and his wife, who would usually visit us, were unable to come this year due to their health condition. This added a layer of melancholy to the usual celebration. The absence of my ex-wife, who lives in upstate New York, cast a shadow over the event. She used to be a part of our lives, but her abrupt exit a few years ago has left many unresolved feelings.

Despite this, the festivities continued. My daughters and their spouses, along with my grandchildren, gathered at my daughter's home. As we enjoyed the traditional meal of filet mignon with horseradish sauce, roasted new potatoes, and Brussels sprouts, we opened packages filled with books and, bizarrely, several pairs of slippers. One highlight was the emergency run I made to L. L. Bean on Christmas Eve to fix a defective inner tube for my son-in-law’s game setup.

Light and Shadows

While the day brought joy, it also brought its share of light-hearted arguments and emotional highs and lows. My ex-wife called to talk to the grandchildren, which wasn't well-received. My son-in-law and I had to remind them to be polite and considerate. The moment was compounded by the music on my phone playing “There Were Christmases When You Were Mine” by Taylor Swift, a song that never seems appropriate in the wake of a breakup.

The confusion and reflection continued well into the night. I noticed a stack of hymnals on the kitchen counter, a tradition we sadly didn't follow this year. The juxtaposition of the song I heard on the phone and the hymnals left me in deep thought.

There were Christmases when you were mine
?I’ve been doing fine without you really
?Until the nights got cold
?And everyone’s here except you, baby
?Seems everyone’s got someone to hold
?But for me, it’s just a lonely time
?Cause there were Christmases when you were mine

As the party dispersed and I noticed the hymnals, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of nostalgia and melancholy. The lyrics echoed the emotional weight of the day, reminding me that while Christmas was supposed to be a joyous time, sometimes the only thing to hold onto is a memory of a person who was once there.