Christmas is Coming - Chapter 11

Christmas was approaching and I knew it would be very different one for me this year. On the one hand, I would not have my kids and grandkids around me.  I was persona non grata at my daughter’s home and everyone would be meeting there for Christmas Eve. My soon-to-be-ex-husband had already booked my boys for Christmas and a turkey at my old home. As much as I would miss them all - and likely would have spent a very sad Christmas otherwise - I, for the first time since Granny had died, had a home to go to for Christmas. I had been invited to my dad’s farm and was immensely grateful for the timing.  

Over the course of the year, I had embarked on so many firsts, but I was also, slowly, getting back my confidence in things I had previously been so adept at; one of which was being invited to play piano at my church for the Christmas Eve service. They typically brought in professional musicians from the Regina Symphony to play strings and organ for that service. Those artists would be supplemented by other musicians from the church, which this year, included me.  I was scared spit-less. In the months prior I had just begun to settle into playing piano at church after being away from it for years; however the music you play each Sunday is nothing more than chord charts, which was not a big deal for me since I played music by ear. For this service, we would be playing from music scores and I had not read a music score for years and years. Nonetheless I eagerly took on the challenge because I finally felt as if I was getting a very important part of myself back. It was a big evening for me and several days prior a package arrived at my office. It was a Christmas present from my dad. He instructed me to open it early and when I peeled away the wrapping, inside were a pair of earrings and a necklace. Silver crosses with Rhinestones to wear on my Christmas Eve performance, he said. I wore them the night of the Christmas Eve Service and felt like I had a bit of my dad with me. He had never heard me play piano but I felt like he was maybe even a little proud of me.  

On Christmas morning, I woke up early and let the gratefulness I felt about my life flood over me. I prayed that morning and thanked God for all He had given me over the past year and the people He had brought into my life. Some for a moment, some for a lifetime. I thanked Him for my new family; it had been the most remarkable thing I had ever experienced. Lizzy texted then called to wish me a Merry Christmas.  I told her how full my heart was as I had been reflecting over the past year. And how thankful I was for her. I was heading to the farm that morning, so I wished her a Merry Christmas and told her I loved her. She had been top on the list of people I had given thanks for over the past year.  

I drove to the farm arriving after lunch. Karen threw open the door and Taylor was screeching to a halt just behind her. They welcomed me in with hugs... and a dire warning, “We’re all sick!” she declared.  Apparently they had all been stricken with a bad cold just days before Christmas. I laughed at this because it had typically been me that got sick before Christmas but this was the first year I had escaped that malady in a very long time. But here I was, knee deep with the “Germy Germasons”.  In days, I would be afflicted. 

I was quickly schooled in the Connick way of doing Christmas. Karen and Taylor, and Karen’s husband were at the house. Lisa and the boys would hopefully come the next day since they were all sick too. I brought in the presents I had bought for each of them and set them around the tree. Since I really didn’t know people well, buying gifts for each of them had been a mixture of fear and freedom. I wasn’t expected to know what they liked but I so wanted to get them something they enjoyed. Sitting next to the Christmas tree was a smaller wooden tree with knobs jutting out at various spots. On those knobs hung some very large knitted stockings each with the name of each family member sewn onto the side. Some were filled to the brim with little gifts and as I scanned them, my heart stopped for a moment. There was one, full to overflowing, with my name on it.  I was told that everyone bought little gifts for each other all year long then gave them to my dad and Norma to fill up the stockings. No one knew who gave what. I sat there and pulled out chocolate, lotions, jewelry, socks, decorations, more chocolate, soap, tea, tools. It was incredible and I was so touched that they had included me in this tradition. Not only had they included me, but it was obvious, that to get this sock made in time, they had planned it far in advance.  It blew my mind a bit. They had already emptied their stockings before I had arrived so I had quite the audience as I unloaded mine. For someone who doesn’t like receiving gifts, it was a little overwhelming, but it was, after all, Christmas.  

We then all turned our attention to the gifts under the tree. Each person was handed a gift then opened it, one by one with everyone taking part in the experience, commenting or joking about what had been given. After each gift was opened, a hug and a thank you was given to the person who gave it. It was so lovely to see such gratitude being demonstrated to one another; felt good to relax and enjoy the moment. I loved this leisurely and respectful way of opening gifts. The other tradition that I became aware of was this: If you gave a person a book, you had to say a little something and sign your name on the inside cover. I had brought more than a few books that Christmas and I spent a good deal of time trying to find just the right thing to write in each one.  

Karen and Taylor left before supper to attend Christmas celebrations with her in-laws I sat down to eat with my dad and Norma who told me that they were so happy to have some “Annette time”. After supper, my dad and I climbed into his truck and drove into Gull Lake to see the Christmas Light display that was put up in the park every year. The one and only tradition I had been able to keep as my kids grew up, was driving around to see the Christmas lights after the Christmas Eve service.  As they got older, they seemed to lose interest.  But here I was with my dad, observing one of my favourite Christmas traditions of admiring the lights in the cold crisp quietness. We walked around the park, noses and fingers quickly becoming icy while we determined our favourite display and snapped many pictures. We finally returned home and Norma had tea and more food ready for us. We sat in the living room and talked and talked. He inquired into my kids and if I had talked with them that day. I told him I had not and explained where each of them was spending Christmas. He commented on that saying: 

“Wow, you’ve really been shut out". 

His comment surprised me a bit. I guess because I had been living daily with this silence. He told me that I deserved better than that. This was a new concept for me to think of myself that way - that I might deserve some respect. It made me sad for a moment - wondering how things might have been different if I had grown up with the love and respect that was being exhibited in this family. But it was comforting to hear my Dad affirm me and acknowledge that I deserved better. No one, as far as I could remember, had ever said that to me before. 

Other than my little heart to heart with my dad, I had not stopped smiling once since walking in the door that day. I went to bed very late that night and there was a text waiting from David. He told me that he hoped I had a good day. I replied: 

 “Just when I think it couldn’t get any better, it does.”

Lisa came with her boys the day after Christmas. It was raucous but after lunch it was clear Wyatt was ready for a nap. He was very sick with a cold so I asked Lisa if he would make strange and if it was OK with her, could I put him down for his nap. She gladly handed him over and we retreated to the bedroom. I sat down in the rocking chair and Wyatt tucked right into my arm, took his bottle and was asleep in no time. I suppose my initial plan was to lay him down when he fell sleep but suddenly I felt more than content to hold him while he slept. His rattley breathing from his cold hearkened me back to exactly one year ago when I had brought my grandkids home with me on Boxing Day. My granddaughter, Little L, had been sick and I had stayed up with her the whole night. She refused to leave my arms. I rocked her and walked with her and tucked her into bed with me. I missed her desperately this Christmas and I spilled a few tears while I held my little nephew. It felt so good to have a small soul in my arms again. So for the next couple hours, I sat still with Wyatt snuggled into my arms and thanked God for the momentary gift of full arms and a brimming heart.  

I spent the next evening and following day with Karen and her in-laws at their family ranch. A couple dozen people gathered around the table for a massive fondue party; a pleasantly raucous evening. I spent the night at “The Palace”. (The name of Karen's husbands bachelor pad prior to marrying her - a disreputable trailer on the ranch.)  Except for the make-up in the bathroom and the Starbucks coffee in the cupboards, this place was all male.  I drove back to my dad’s farm that afternoon and by the next morning I woke up sick. My dad felt terrible that I had caught their colds. I tried my best to ignore the sore throat and head congestion and press on but I didn’t need to. I found myself waited on and cared for. I was set up in the reclining chair with a blanket, hot tea brought to my side, a box of Kleenex and a variety of books. I was to rest. And no - it was not Norma the former nurse taking care of me - it was my dad. I overheard him on the phone that night with Karen; informing her that I had come down with their cold. “It was good she got sick here otherwise she would have been alone” he said. A year ago - I would have been happy and content, for the rest of my life, with those 25 minutes in the hotel lounge. What I had received instead was mind blowing. I had received a family. A dad. Acceptance and caring. Believe it or not, I was still struggling with it all. I still feared that I would wear out my welcome and that they would tire of me.  But for now, I tried to embrace it.

During that week, my youngest son and his girlfriend made the drive to the farm to meet my family. I was crazy happy that they had agreed to come.  Although Ty had been somewhat complacent about me meeting my dad (although, to be fair, he has always been a man of few words), Becky - his girlfriend - had been excited. We all spent one afternoon driving to Cypress Hills and walking around the lake. Upon our return we sat around the table with Ty and Becky while my family got to know...my family. For the most part I sat back and let them talk while I observed. I could see that my dad and Norma were falling in love with Becky and thought highly of Ty. It felt extremely good to finally have one of my kids meet my dad - their grandfather. Maybe one day, the others would follow suit.  

I drove home to Regina on New Year’s Eve day. I was leaving just after lunch to make sure I had good roads and plenty of daylight to make my trip. I packed up all my gifts and Norma made me a mountain of care packages from the leftover food. As I made the first trip to load my car, my dad had brushed off all the snow that had fallen on it over the week and asked me for my keys. It was -25 celsius and he offered to start my car and warm it up for me. Ever thoughtful. I made the final trip to the car with all my stuff and before climbing into the driver’s seat, I stopped to give my dad a hug and thank him for such a wonderful Christmas. He hugged me back so tightly and did not let go. He warned me to drive carefully and told me how much it meant to have me for Christmas. Then he said into my ear, “I love you”.  It was the first time he had said those words to me and my heart nearly soared out of my chest. “I love you too” I replied.  

Wow - what a year!