Maybe next year

By Joe Rector

Christmas is barreling at us like a run-away eighteen- wheeler. I’m not sure how, but my shopping is completed. Of course, I only have to buy for Amy. She’s the one who runs herself ragged and fights the crowded stores as she searches for gifts for the rest of the family. Like so many other women in this country, her only wish is for Christmas Day to come so that she can finally relax for a while.

So many people dread Christmas or wish it didn’t come at all. Moods of those people are joyless. Some suffer from loved ones who have passed. Celebrating without those special folks is pointless for it brings no happiness.

I sometimes miss my two children when they were little, before they discover “the truth.” Sure, those years were fraught with worry. I remember searching for the perfect gifts for Lacey and Dallas. One year, the boy wanted a sword that lit up. We finally found one, only to discover on Christmas morning that the thing didn’t work. I convinced my son that Santa had an agreement with the stores to replace any broken toys.

On another Christmas Eve, Amy and I worked until the wee hours of the morning putting toys together with the aid of instructions written in a foreign language. Every Christmas, I asked the children and Amy if they got everything they wanted.

All the searching and putting together were worth it on Christmas mornings. To see those little faces light up with joy when they spied the presents and opened them to find what they asked Santa to bring.

The rest of Christmas was spent overeating and playing with our children. At some point, I’d find a place to lie down for a nap. When I awoke, night had come, and it was time to eat another big plate of food. Slowly, the adrenaline from the day wore off and the two little ones would fall asleep. Amy and I fell into bed with a satisfied tiredness. We knew the day had been a success and that we were all safe and happy.

The next day, the children and I missed the excitement of Christmas. Amy smiled and sympathized with us. Inside, however, she was rejoicing that it would be another year before the madness started again.

This year will be different. Our family has suffered the excruciating loss of our son Dallas, and the pain will dampen our normally giddy holiday moods. Yet, when we think of the loss and what it means, we take some comfort in knowing where he is and that his pain and suffering are over. I’ll be glad for Christmas 2024 to be over. We’ll try again next year. Maybe next year we can experience more joy than grief.