A “NEW NORMAL” HOLIDAY

Christmas Tree 2010

FOR THE second year in a row, I did not display any Christmas ornaments in my house. My kids didn't ask me why. Only once did my nine-year-old daughter, Roseya, mention putting up our old Christmas tree in its usual corner of the living room. It wasn’t a question about why I hadn’t done it; it felt more like a gentle reminder—perhaps even a loving command—for me to obey.

It happened just a week before December, and Roseya clearly thought I had simply forgotten what our family has always loved doing at this time of the year. She missed our holiday traditions: decorating the tree while playing Christmas CDs, with our all-time favorites being Paskong Pinoy and Jose Mari Chan’s iconic holiday album. It used to be a wonderful time of togetherness. She deeply missed looking forward to placing the little star or an angel at the very top of a tree decked out in all its festive finery.

Last year marked our first Christmas without her mom. Back then, I couldn’t bring myself to even open the box of decorations. It was simply too painful to think about celebrating, making everything look pretty, and watching lights twinkle without her. Having a brightly lit tree as the centerpiece of our home had always been my wife's idea. The tree seemed to solidify us as a family, giving us a reason to cheer. The beautifully wrapped gifts tucked underneath would remain unopened until New Year’s Eve, creating an exquisite sense of excitement and anticipation for the kids.

Though their mother is gone, I still have Roseya and her two brothers, all of whom look forward to celebrating the season. I have since sat down with them to explain why our home currently lacks a tree, flashing lights, glitz, and glamour. They understand now, and they no longer ask. My daughter’s single inquiry two weeks before Christmas was the sole exception. Memories of their mom remain a profoundly touchy subject.

How do you celebrate Christmas when your wife is no longer there to fulfill her role in the family tradition? This is the agonizing question we must all face at some point along our grief journey. It was the warmth and love of my wife that made every holiday season so memorable, which makes celebrating without her an incredibly painful ordeal. Without her here to share it, the holidays feel hollow and empty.

Because of this, we decided to do something a bit different last year, and the children agreed. We knew we needed to keep ourselves busy rather than isolate ourselves in the gloom that enveloped us. We packed our bags and headed to Ilocos to spend the holidays surrounded by their grandparents (my parents), aunts, uncles, and cousins. Afterward, we didn’t return straight to Bulacan; instead, we went to my in-laws' house in Malate just in time to welcome the New Year. It was beautiful to be wrapped in the comfort of a deeply supportive family. That was also the year we began skipping two of our long-standing Christmas traditions from the days before our loss: visiting Star City and watching a movie together at the Metro Manila Film Festival.

This year, we chose to stay home in Bulacan for Christmas Eve. However, we weren’t alone; my three sisters joined us for the celebration. My youngest sister, Mahren—who lives with her own family just a block away—played host to our get-together for Noche Buena. Then, on December 26, I brought the kids to their grandmother’s place in Malate, where we will be staying until the New Year.

It is a quiet truth that Christmas is not all jingle bells, especially for those who are grieving. During this time of year, some people may want to hide away, close their eyes, and not wake up until January 2nd. Others find themselves wishing for a magic wand to make the holidays better. They are eager for the season to pass because they feel they have so little to celebrate.

Loss changes everything for a family. Whenever I read about tragedies and disasters involving sudden loss, my heart sinks. My mind drifts to the families of the hundreds of people who perished during the flash floods caused by Typhoon Pablo in Mindanao early this year; the families of the children in Newtown, Connecticut, who were stolen by a gunman's bullets; and most recently, the victims of the massive fire in Quezon City. One can only imagine how they are coping with the thoughts, feelings, scents, rituals, and traditions of a holiday season where everything around them points to a life interrupted. Just like us, they need the grace to grieve and work through their pain.

I do not know how long it will take before I am ready to bring the old Christmas tree out of storage and put it back in its rightful place in the living room. For now, my kids and I have to let go of high expectations. Instead, we must focus on discovering our "new normal," particularly when it comes to navigating the holidays. We will learn whatever it is we need to learn to survive times like this.

The Christmas tree, the colorful decorations, and the carols are merely parts of the tradition—they are not the reason for it. More than anything, what we need right now is prayer. As the old saying goes, 'tis the reason for the season, after all.

Christmas in Ilocos, 2011