Uncomfortably Different Christmases

Hey, I suck, we all know it.  I could say finals were my excuse, yada yada yada, you've heard it before.  But I'm here now, so you can all exhale.

I was actually planning to sit down and blog this past Friday.  I had this whole blog post planned where I retold my sad Christmas story from 2008 when I was diagnosed with cancer, and we spent the holidays in the hospital, getting biopsies and scans and tubes and shit, and somehow turn it into a story about the spirit of Christmas and elves and pine cones or something.  

But then, the Newtown, Connecticut shooting occurred, and my story didn't really matter anymore.  At all, really.

I sobbed as I read the descriptions about each of the people killed, and even felt kind of sorry looking at the shooter himself. You have to wonder what was going on in his head... But this isn't about him.  He made a decision that day, and that decision is wreaking havoc on the people of Newtown, Connecticut.

There's something about Christmas time that puts a sort of fog over tragedy.  It's like you know the gravity of a situation but you can't fully grasp it because it's Christmas time.  Everything starts happening in slow motion.  It's like...trying to walk through a pool of red and green Jell-o...all of your coping mechanisms and comprension abilities are on the other side of the pool, and you're trying to get there, but you're constantly being assaulted by the red and green, and twinkling icicle lights, and pine scent attacking your nose, and you just can't get there.  (Sorry, I had green Jell-o the other day.) My sister Jackie said herself in the essay I posted, that she knew how serious it was, but couldn't think of anything but Christmas.  Tragedies are not supposed to happen at Christmas-time (apparently no one told the Mayans).  

Like the song says, "it's the most wonderful time of the year," "don we now our gay apparel," and like such as ("and like such as" is my new phrase, courtesy of Miss Teen USA 2007 South Carolina).  It's hard to comprehend that something bad is happening when the world is cramming cheer and merriment down your throat.

And I obviously have no idea what the people in Connecticut are going through.  No idea whatsoever.  Will never even be able to grasp.  But I'd be willing to guess that a lot of them are walking in a Christmassy blur, asking themselves what the hell happened.  One day they brought their child to sit on Santa's lap, and the next he was gone.

Christmas will be different for them this year.  Uncomfortably different.  And although I know nothing about what they're going through, I know a thing or two about uncomfortably different Christmases.  They are bittersweet.

When I woke up on Christmas morning in the hospital, the nurses (lead by my girl Detria!!!), had put out a pile of presents on the little tray at the foot of my bed.  A pretty decent sized pile, really.  And not only that: there was a table of presents for my sister, Jackie.  And they weren't shitty presents either.  Altogether, we had a pretty decent collection of Aeropostale sweatshirts, Build-a-Bears, Twilight books, make-up kits, games, and plenty of other really nice gifts.  The nurses knew that our Christmas was completely shattered, whether we realized it or not.  And they tried the best they could to bring some sort of happiness to the day.  And I'll tell you, I was probably as happy as I could be, for someone who was spending Christmas with as a little orange elf named Doxorubicin.  

And even more overwhelming than the nurses' kindness...was thinking of where those gifts came from.  They came from people.  People we didn't know.  People who didn't just stop at the dollar store and grab some silly putty to donate to the hospital.  People who knew were just people struggling on Christmas.

Throughout the day, more gifts arrived, some of them from people who had spent Christmas in that very room in years past.  My sister brings a Build-a-Bear up to 11G on Christmas eve now, to pay it forward.

That's what the vitcims of the Connecticut tragedy need right now.  At least I think they do.  They need people.  I know that there's been lots of gifts, letters, and food sent there.  And that's great.  But I know not everyone has the money to send things, and that's okay.  I will request this of you, though.  Whenever you post a status, tweet, blog (like this kid), or even just plain old say that you are praying for  everyone involved in this tragedy (or sending positive energy, like this fruitcake over here), you actually take a moment or two to send that energy, or say that prayer.  Really do it.  I know how easy it is to say "sending my prayers" and then start watching that show on MTV where Nev the catfish guy shows  people how to use google---because clearly I am guilty of this myself.  I am going to take a moment right now...

Everyone have a Merry Christmas, and hug your loved ones extra tight.

Jesse