I am looking at my mom’s winter coat which hangs in my office. I am about to put it on and go for our 39th year of seeing White Christmas at the Alabama Theatre.
When my mother moved to the United States from Puerto Rico, a Chicago winter was quite a shock. Her stories of trying to deal with the ice and snow were always entertaining. When she passed away and my father proclaimed that he had no use for any of her “junk”, I took a few things before giving away the rest. The very first coat she had ever had to buy, a large polar bear looking thing, was one of the things I kept and leave out in my office year round.
Last night there was a special service at our church catered to people who have lost someone over the past year. When my mom died five years ago, I attended with a good friend who had lost her brother. Although I was sad, I am not sure that I would have gone to the service if my friend hadn’t asked me to sit with her.
Last night, I again attended because I wanted to be there to sit with a friend who lost her husband recently. If not for her, I probably would not have gone. After all, my father not only didn’t believe in anything we were about to do, he laughed at me for believing it. It makes it difficult to feel my emotions when I hear his mocking voice echoing in my head.
The service was beautiful and getting to be there, not only with the friend I went to sit with, but other people who mean a lot to me who were grieving, was a lovely way to spend an evening this close to Christmas.
I tend to find practical things to do when tragedy hits so that I can try to bypass the emotions. I will handle the paperwork or rearrange some furniture or make a meal or anything tangible to escape the emotional. As a child my dad fussed at me whenever I cried, until I decided that crying wasn’t productive and gave it up. It wasn’t until I married Tim that I felt like I could cry without shame. Now I cry a lot, at silly commercials or if anyone around me tears up.
Last night, as I lit my candle and headed to the altar rail to pray, I tried to remember the good times with my dad, to overlook the rough times and concentrate on the positive. The visions in my head were of things I would have rather not thought about, so I headed back to my seat.
As my friend cried at the rail, I looked away and when she came to sit back down beside me, the emotions swept over me. I felt my face contort and my chin quiver. I knew that if I lost it now, I would be done for, so I concentrated on the music and tried to think positive thoughts.
I realized that I was glad I had been there, as my friend and I walked outside into the cold night air. We stood out front and talked. I am sad that I hadn’t really known the beloved husband she lost, but on the other hand I was glad that I was able to let her tell me more about him in her own words.
Memories are strange things. Memories during this time of year are even stranger. They escape you when you think they will hit, then hit you at the most random times. For me, they bring up every emotion, fill me with joy, love, anger and regret. They cause me to want to scream at times and to cry at others. They are sometimes too much to handle and other times they wrap me up in warmth, just like my mom’s coat.
Tonight, Tim and I will see White Christmas together at the Alabama Theatre for the 39th year in a row. I will think about the years when we had our little boy with us, the years that we had to struggle to find the time to go to the theatre, the time we went with other people when things didn’t work out so well and the recent years when it has just been me and Tim- like it was in the beginning.
I’ll think about last year when for some reason I bought tickets to the showing early in the season instead of closer to Christmas like we usually do. And how after a rather irritating experience where people didn’t follow the pandemic rules, the whole series was cancelled the next day. We didn’t miss our showing, our 38th time, but many people did.
I am thankful as another Christmas rolls around, thankful for the memories- good and bad- that fill my head and for the chance to put on my mother’s coat and go out and make some new holiday memories. Merry Christmas.
