a
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      A
      LESS
      TRAUMATIC
      YEAR
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      By
      STEPHANIE
      DOUGLAS
     
    
   
   
    
     
      'y
      introduction
      to
      writing
      for
      The
      Cadre:
      “We
      need
     
     
      Messina
      stories,”
      says
      Kent
      as
      he
      looks
      around
      the
     
     
      table,
      “any
      type
      of.
      Christmas
      stories
      as
      long
      as
     
     
      they’re
      about
      Christmas.”
      Sounds
      like
      a
      simple
      enough
      first
     
     
      assignment.
      If
      only
      he
      knew
      that
      I
      would
      rather
      have
      been
     
     
      assigned
      a
      story
      where
      I
      had
      to
      interview
      a
      mortician
      and
      take
     
     
      pictures
      of
      dead
      bodies
      or
      write
      a
      10,000
      word
      essay
      on
      the
     
     
      value
      of
      snow
      rather
      than
      trying
      to
      bring
      forth
      a
      measly
      500
     
     
      words
      on
      Christmas.
      What
      little
      I
      know
      of
      Kent,
      I
      think
      he
     
     
      would
      have
      trouble
      stifling
      back
      his
      laughter.
     
     
      ‘What
      could
      be
      easier
      than
      writing
      about
      Christmas?
     
     
      It’s
      a
      time
      of
      coloured
      lights
      arrayed
      in
      fetching
      patterns
      and
     
     
      shapes,
      a
      time
      for
      laughter,
      of
      spending
      time
      with
      friends
      and
     
     
      loved
      ones,
      of
      eating
      too
      much
      and
      drinking
      too
      deeply.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Christmas
      is
      that
      time
      we
      take
      delight
      in
      complaining
      about
     
    
   
   
    
     
      the
      commercialism
      of
      it
      all
      while
      we
      walk
      by
      store
      windows
     
     
      entranced
      at
      the
      variety
      of
      goodies
      assaulting
      our
      eyes.
      Or
      we
     
     
      grumble
      about
      the
      incessant
      Christmas
      carols
      assaulting
      our
     
     
      ears
      from
      every
      store’s
      loud
      speaker
      as
      we
      walk
      down
      the
     
     
      street,
      all
      the
      while
      humming
      them
      under
      our
      breaths
      and
      tak-
     
     
      ing
      great
      enjoyment
      in
      bellowing
      them
      out
      while
      showering.
     
    

    
     
      Christmas
      is
      a
      time
      for
      self-indulgence
      and
      indulging
     
     
      others.
      It’s
      a
      time
      for
      watching
      the
      eyes
      of
      young
      and
      old
      alike,
     
     
      light
      up
      with
      joy
      at
      seeing
      us
      arrive
      at
      their
      door,
      arms
      loaded
     
     
      with
      presents.
      It’s
      a
      time
      for
      dreamy
      nostalgia
      as
      families
     
     
      engage
      in
      time-honoured
      traditions
      or
      for
      creating
      new
      ones
      as
     
     
      children
      leave
      parental
      homes
      to
      start
      their
      own
      families,
      their
     
     
      own
      lives,
      their
      own
      traditions.
     
    

    
     
      However,
      for
      some
      of
      us,
      for
      people
      like
      me,
      Christmas
     
     
      is
      a
      time
      of
      great
      pain.
      It’s
      a
      silent
      pain,
      difficult
      to
      share
      in
      this
     
     
      time
      of
      laughter
      and
      joy.
      Not
      because
      we
      begrudge
      other’s
     
     
      enjoying
      themselves,
      on
      the
      contrary,
      but
      because
      we
      have
      dif-
     
     
      ficulty
      joining
      in
      and
      even
      greater
      difficulty
      in
      deflecting
      ques-
     
     
      tions
      about
      what
      we
      are
      doing
      for
      the
      holidays
      or
      explaining
     
     
      why
      we
      just
      don’t
      have
      it
      in
      us
      to
      get
      into
      the
      “holiday
      spirit.”
     
    
   
   
    
     
      It’s
      not
      that
      we
      want
      to
      be
      evasive
      but
      we
      know
      from
      experi-
     
     
      ence
      that
      people
      don’t
      really
      want
      to
      hear
      about
      pain,
      death
     
     
      and
      loss
      at
      a
      time
      like
      Christmas,
      what
      a
      drag!
     
    

    
     
      For
      me
      and
      people
      like
      me
      who
      have
      lost
      a
      loved
      one
     
     
      and
      are
      approaching
      this
      first
      major
      holiday
      without
      them,
      we
     
     
      face;
      I
      face
      this
      holiday
      season
      with
      trepidation.
      I
      should
      know
     
     
      the
      drill
      by
      now,
      six
      years
      ago
      my
      eldest
      sister
      died
      a
      couple
      of
     
     
      months
      before
      Christmas,
      that
      first
      Christmas
      was
      hard,
      her
     
     
      birthday,
      Christmas
      Eve,
      the
      hardest
      of
      all.
      I
      was
      lucky
      enough
     
     
      to
      have
      good
      friends,
      who
      didn’t
      try
      and
      cheer
      me
      up;-but-
     
     
      allowed
      me
      to
      experience
      Christmas
      in
      whatever
      way
      I
      need-
     
     
      ed
      to.
      They
      welcomed
      me
      into
      their
      hearts
      and
      into
      their
      fam-
     
     
      ily
      and
      I
      spent
      that
      Christmas
      with
      my
      daughter
      surrounded
      by
      ©
     
     
      friends
      and
      their
      families,
      engulfed
      with
      their
      laughter
      and
     
     
      their
      joy.
      I
      couldn’t
      participate
      fully,
      there
      was
      too
      much
      pain,
     
     
      but
      I
      was
      and
      will
      ever
      be
      grateful
      for
      that
      experience
      of
      being
     
     
      wanted
      without
      the
      pressure
      of
      having
      to
      be
      ‘happy’
      or
      ‘okay,’
     
     
      or
      ‘having
      fun.’
     
    

    
     
      This
      year
      is
      different
      altogether.
      On
      this
      Christmas
      day,
     
     
      I
      will
      relive
      last
      year’s
      when
      I
      was
      told
      my
      mother
      was
      in
      hos-
     
     
      pital.
      This
      New
      Year’s
      Eve,
      I
      will
      revisit
      the
      experience
      of
      fly-
     
     
      ing
      out
      to
      BC
      hoping
      beyond
      hope
      I
      would
      reach
      Victoria
      in
     
     
      time.
      On
      New
      Year’s
      Day,
      it
      will
      be
      impossible
      for
      me
      not
      to
     
     
      remember
      watching
      my
      mother
      die,
      and
      as
      the
      holidays
      get
     
     
      closer,
      the
      reality
      that
      I
      am
      an
      orphan
      is
      starting
      to
      sink
      in.
     
    

    
     
      I
      don’t
      feel
      much
      like
      celebrating,
      but
      I
      do
      want
      to
      be
     
     
      surrounded
      by
      other’s
      having
      the
      time
      of
      their
      lives.’
      1
      want
      to
     
     
      hear
      tacky
      Christmas
      carols,
      and
      be
      blinded
      by
      gaudy,
      blink-
     
     
      ing
      lights,
      most
      of
      all,
      I
      want
      it
      to
      be
      okay
      with
      my
      friends
      that
     
     
      my
      tears
      are
      mixed
      in
      with
      my
      laughter.
      This
      New
      Year’s
      Eve,
     
     
      I
      want
      to
      raise
      a
      bottle,
      (not
      a
      glass)
      of
      Champagne.
      With
      the
     
     
      first
      great
      swig
      of
      bubbly
      booze,
      I
      want
      to
      honour
      the
      memo-
     
     
      ry
      of
      my
      mother
      and
      with
      the
      rest
      of
      the
      bottle,
      I
      want
      to
      ring
     
     
      in
      a
      new,
      and
      hopefully
      less
      traumatic
      year.