…of Christmases past.
Okay. So this year, I am facing my holiday demons head-on. No more relinquishing my power to people who are either dead or dead to me. I recite my “Release” mantra more and more regularly as the season climaxes and finally, gratefully wanes. And yet still, my thoughts drift back to so many agonizing memories.
My last Christmas with my dad, when I was eight years old. He was a tortured soul, alcoholic, philandering, artistic and the most charismatic man I’ve ever known. He smothered me in a suffocating bear hug all night as we slept together on Christmas Eve, waiting for what I assumed was the arrival of Santa. Little did I know It was the last time I would ever see him, touch him, smell him. The next day he returned me to my mother and disappeared from my life – forever. A wandering nomad and painter, but father no more. Gone, in a puff of smoke.
What should have been my last Christmas shared with both my roommate from college and my first husband. Yes, for the age-old cliche of breaking the Seventh Commandment. Thou shalt not commit adultery. God-only-knows-why, I eventually forgave them both and let them both back into my life. I divorced the ex for a litany of transgressions long ago but kept the BFF for decades. I finally cut the cord this month. After 50 years. Still bleeding.
My last Christmas with my mother, who lay dying of lupus in a hospital bed while my step-father was breaking the Seventh Commandment with her best friend and forcing her to sign over her estate to him before she took her last breath.
The last Christmas with my current in-laws, 14 or 15 years ago. They were so hateful to me that I had to leave my own home in the dead of night in a torrent of tears to escape their wrath. For what? Still don’t know, for sure. The roast was late? I almost left K because I did not want to come between him and his family, no matter how unreasonable and teutonically tyrannical they were/are. Gracias a dios, we have survived and flourished.
I have many more nightmarish Christmas memories, but I am growing weary of these tales of woe. They are lessons in life, nothing more. As I age, I finally feel a bit stronger spiritually, cutting the shackles of past physical and emotional traumas to focus on the light.
K and I have had a hellish year and a banner year, all rolled into one. Even though K’s femur had been shattered by a bullet during the home invasion, we found the strength and wherewithal to travel to the Middle East, Africa, India, and Panama. We experienced new cultures and fascinating people from all walks of life from every corner of the planet. Our souls were rejuvenated as we absorbed the positive energies of the diverse people – and animals – we connected with, some for a nanosecond and others for a lifetime. We are blessed.
For my New Year’s Resolution, I vow to work harder to release all those who no longer serve my higher purpose of love, forgiveness, and light. If I do not feel valued and respected, I promise not to abuse myself by sticking around until the inevitable bitter end. I don’t have another half-century to get it right. The time is now for love and mutuality, respect and compassion.
Love and blessings to all this festive and oftentimes reflective season.
Namaste. 💔
Dec. 24, 2019
Judy Richter 