My heart goes out to all of you (who have posted, and those who may not have) who are dreading Christmas this year. I've been through that feeling before, and it's not nice. There's so much emphasis put on the holiday through advertisers and such that those who are in situations where they are alone, or missing someone, or perhaps there are family rifts...well, it just seems to exacerbate the feelings of lonliness.
I think the worst Christmas I ever spent (aside from the first one without my mom...I was 11 that year, and have completely blocked out the memory now) was when my (ex) husband and I were in the process of breaking up. We were still together as a couple then, but were living in my dad's house, having given up our apartment when I became pregnant...back then they were able to deem some apt complexes as 'adults only', and we were in one of them. I was six months' pregnant and he - though he denied it vehemently - was having an affair. He was taking a leave from work to attend a cooking course, and whilst there met a woman who was taking another class. The two hooked up and the affair began. It didn't take me long to realize what was going on, esp after I found out he'd signed up for some ballroom dance classes alone (he hated dancing). I called the dance studio and they confirmed that you couldn't join without a partner. After that there were just too many clues he left for me to ignore, and then a call from his cooking instructor one night, saying that Bob was 'friendly' with one of the other students, made me realize I could no longer live in denial. After that I found letters to him from her, and that followed with a confrontation, denial, then a promise that he was no longer seeing her, etc. However, his attitude toward me spoke more truth than his words; on the evenings he did come home - some nights he never bothered - he was cold and distant with me.
Anyway, I remember it was the 22nd or 23rd of December, and the staff at the hotel where he worked (and I had also once worked) was throwing a Christmas party. Bob said he had to go out that afternoon, but he'd be home by six, and since the party started at eight, we had plenty of time to get ready. I got dressed and put on the maternity outfit I'd bought for the party...a really nice velour black and gold set...and waited for him. And waited. And waited. And waited. He never did come home that night, and I spent the evening dressed up, looking forward to going out and seeing our friends...and instead put some decorations on the tree, crying while I did. My sister was at home at the time and she did her best to comfort me, but there really isn't a lot that people can do for someone who's heart has been broken.
Christmas eve turned out to be just as bad, with us having a huge fight when he announced he was going to go away for New Years' Eve and Day - going to a cabin with some buddies. (LOL...I knew where he was going, and with whom, and it wasn't his buddies from work.) But I do have to say that even in our darkest of times, there can be some laughter, and that happened to me Christmas morning. Mind you, I didn't laugh at the time, but in looking back it has given me a great many silent chuckles. On Christmas morning at my dad's, we all got up and came downstairs for coffee. Then Bob announced he had to go out and make a delivery for someone at the hardware store (he did side jobs for the store with our truck) and would be back in 20 minutes. When he finally returned a couple of hours later (not making a delivery, btw...he was out visiting 'someone') we were getting ready to exchange gifts. I was livid with Bob by then, but never said a word. We were standing in the kitchen, my sister at the stove, and Bob said to me, "Oh, you're going to love what I got you for Christmas, Di...it's special...you'll just love it!" In the meantime my sister, who was standing behind him, had this look of horror on her face and began shaking her head and mouthing, 'No you won't', no you won't'. Apparently he'd shown it to her before wrapping it.
So we went into the living room and began opening gifts. When were down to the last one or two, Bob handed his special gift to me. I looked at it, not wanting to even open it I was so upset, but he insisted I do...he seemed so excited about it. And for a brief moment I thought, maybe he does still love me, and maybe this is his way of saying, 'I'm sorry'. So I looked at him, then down at the gift in my lap, and unwrapped it.
Beneath the layers of tissue in that box was something I couldn't believe...I pulled it out and looked at it: a CGE electric carving knife. And two thoughts immediately came to mind:
How could anyone be so utterly stupid as him, to give a pregnant woman - on whom he's been cheating - a
weapon?!?!!?
and
darn...the cord wasn't quite long enough to reach the outlet that sat behind me.
(Sorry for the lengthy story, but it still makes me laugh to this day when I think about it.)