Of all the Christmases and New Years that I have had, even while I was living in Lebanon during the civil war, the hardest was the one that just passed. It’s harder to talk about even now that it’s a thing of the past. But what I really, really, wanted for this Christmas was just:
“To be 5 years old again for an hour. I want to laugh a lot and cry a lot. I want to be picked or rocked to sleep in someone’s arms, and carried up to be just one more time. I know what I really want for Christmas: I want my childhood back.” Robert Fulghum
For once I really want to be that child again. Happy one minute, sad and crying the next over a broken or a lost toy. I want to go back to the years when I was much younger and my kids were merely babies. I want to go back to those days when I was filled with enthusiasm and dreams and after a day of teaching and taking care of my little ones the only thing I desperately wished was for some time to myself. I wish to complain again about being tired all the time from overwork and not having enough sleep.
Now that my children are grown and have become young adults I am left to face life all alone. In the words of Robert Fulghum:
“So you drive as far as you can, even when you can clearly read the sign. You want to think you are exempt, that it doesn’t apply to you. But it does. Life is still a dead end. And we still have a hard time believing it.”
Of all the difficulties that one faces in life, the hardest perhaps is losing a loved one. And in one year I lost my father, then my friend, and then my husband. It’s the finality of their existence, one minute they are here and the next their voices have been silenced forever.
Robert Fulghum writes:
“Every person passing through this life will unknowingly leave something and take something away. Most of this “something” cannot be seen or heard or numbered or scientifically detected or counted. It’s what we leave in the minds of other people and what they leave in ours. Memory. The census doesn’t count it. Nothing counts without it.”
With the passing of each and every one of them I am left with a sense of loss and a sense of finality. In my mind I try to relive the past and remember the good times and the bad times we had together. I try to hear their voices. But as Chuck Palahniuk wrote:
“It’s so hard to forget pain, but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.”