Christmas every single day

How or why did I sit through the entire George Michael's "last Christmas" song this morning on my way to run an errand alone? Was it that I knew it was just a part of every holiday season, to hear the former lead singer of Wham belt out this 80's Christmas jam? Do I like his music? NO (emphatic). Yet, I couldn't change the dial. I had to, for a moment, live inside 1987. That dorky little song, took me back, further than the birth of that song, to my own birth, well sort of...at least as far back as I can remember.

I recall the last Christmas before my sister was born, I was Brookelyn's age. I jumped on my parents waterbed and screamed "Santa came!". The first thing I saw was a bunny in a beautiful tutu, it wasn't ugly or skanky, it wasn't purchased at K-mart or Trader's Village, she was almost too pretty to play with. She was sitting in a beautiful rocker, the same children's rocker I have now. I do not have the bunny, which is fine, because she'd only be stuffed in a box in my disgraceful garage. I have the memory, and some pictures of me holding the bunny so tightly, as if to exclaim in my smile "this is what I've always wanted!". I too had been a ballerina at the time. I had even performed at the Fort Worth Convention center.

After Kristyn was born, Christmas became even more fun. I took pride in having a little sister, and she always looked, and still does look at me with such love in her eyes. We were smitten as kittens and Christmas was always a good time to forget woeful times. It was the best, crawling up on my Mother's lap, putting my head on her lap while she was wrapped up in her robe sipping hot, black coffee. My dad was quickly put to work, assembling new product. It was, for instance, perfect harmony.

My last Christmas with my mother, while I was living with her was Christmas 93, four years before she passed. It was the saddest holiday ever. I only share it with you so you can share in my current state of gratitude. My sister was over for the night on xmas eve, as she was living with our dad around the block. When she came over my mom wasn't there, which was normal for the time. I made us dinner or walked us to 7/11 for snack items, I can't remember. We watched some t/v and fell asleep, still with no mom in sight. I never really fell asleep. I was up worrying, like usual, about my mom. I just wanted her to come home in time and deliver some sort of xmas morning for my sister. I sat at the front window jumping every time I heard a car, praying it would be her. I found myself sobbing on the window pane. I continued to check on my sister who was sleeping in my twin bed, never once waking up to wonder why I wasn't laying next to her. By 2 a.m, I decide to call my grandma, mom's mom. She came over and the rest is sort of a blur. My mother came home just before sunrise, and my grandma had gifts for everyone. I just wanted to get sister back to dads and then run as fast and as far as I could. My mother had lost herself completely in 1993. Watching her kill herself was killing bits and pieces of me on a daily basis. I was skipping school a lot, or not going, but not going meant staying home. I was throwing up a lot. My mom would sadly say, "I know why you're vomiting, I'm so sorry Candice that I'm so lost and ill, I don't know how to get better". I would shoot her a glare that basically said, "screw you". I had so much anger and sadness inside, that it just fused together to make one big, sick emotion. She never had food in the house, she never had lunch money for me, she never had heat in the house, she'd lock her bedroom door which possessed the only bathroom, forcing me to go to a neighbors house. I thought, "if I run, where do I go?" and I knew I didn't want to really leave my mom. Who was going to wake her up in the mornings, check for breathing, locate her robe, a clean pair of socks? It was hard to understand her depression and addictions. I used anger to communicate with her. I pushed her away when she tried to hug or kiss me. I yelled at her for not getting better. I yelled at her for having children, which is of course, is something I think was her greatest accomplishments, now.

By New Years Eve, I wasn't even in Texas. My grandma and mom sent me to my mother's sisters in Ohio. I spent 6 months there while my mother got worse, and then made a decision to get better. I knew I'd never live with her again, which was a death all by itself. She did get better, as better as she could possibly get. She died in 1997 unrelated to addiction, but of course related to mental illness. I figure her soul must have been heaven bound because all that was ever waiting for her here was hell. She didn't kill herself. She just died, and there is no uncomplicated way to describe it. So that is how I do my best with the description, that the death wasn't intentional, she simply died, and that I believe her soul was aching to leave and find peace.

Of course, if I'm being honest, a part of me died along with her. My world went spinning out of control. She had spent the last few years making up for 1993, and then one day, shes gone. It didn't make sense, but nothing with her did. All I know is that I loved her madly and would have walked to the edge of existence to rope her back in to my heart. I fully believe she lived as long as she did because of the two daughters she had. I think Kristyn and Candice were sent here to keep her on earth a little longer. Would you believe she was once homeroom mom at my elementary school in Fort Worth? She could craft, sew, cook, decorate a home like nobody's business. She had an energy and aura, and she was beautiful. I didn't get any of my features from her, she had coal black hair, dark brown eyes. Kristyn does resemble her so its nice to sit and stare at her.

I know you usually come to my blog to laugh, and the hilarious stories are building up, as Michael has been off of work since Friday!

I only write because I want to get it out of my system. Its a bonus that anyone reads and takes something away. I mention perspective a lot, because it is so very important. I let my kids watch Spongebob, not because I think its the most appropriate cartoon for them, but because I know I'm a good mother. I'm present, attentive, and I haven't failed them yet. I think if Spongebob is the worst decision I make as a mom, then I'm doing okay.

I hope people wake up on Christmas morning filled with the same gratefulness and love that I feel everyday. I have to pinch myself because life has been so very good to me. It might as well be Christmas every single day.