Six years ago tonight, I spent my last Christmas with Sam. It was a bit of a disaster. My daughter and I were barely on speaking terms. I had so desperately wanted her to just spend a few days with me, but she wanted to go to Kingston. It was in the early days of my break up from my last serious relationship. I just wanted family around so badly.
Sam and his wife and her son were to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at my house and Christmas morning Tess and Matt would come over after breakfast. And then they would all head back to their father’s.
In the early hours of Christmas morning, I woke up to the sound of someone violently vomiting in the bathroom. I waited to see if anyone would go help but no one did. So I went. It was poor Sam. He was so sick with stomach flu. I got him some pepto, some gravol and a cold cloth for his head. By morning, he was well enough to sit with us as presents were opened. Then they all headed to Kingston and I was alone. I got sick that night with the same flu.
I’m laying here in bed now on this Christmas Eve and that night is all I can think of. I have his photo on the pillow beside mine and the tears are falling freely. What I would give to just go back. When the kids were small, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were always so special. The tree was decorated and the gifts were opened in the morning with so much excitement. Those are amongst my favorite memories. The looks on their faces when they would open those gifts.
I can’t remember a Christmas Eve since that last one with Sam or a Christmas Day that has really felt like anything special. Randy and I did drive to Edmonton in 2019 and that was nice.
I guess Christmas for me ended in 2016. Tomorrow is just another day. I don’t want to get out of bed.
It’s Christmas Eve 2022. It’s 9 pm. I’m going to go to bed now.