Farewell Christmas

I am convinced that after midnight on December 25 the excitement of the holidays begins to die down. Visions of candy canes and sugar plums stop dancing in our heads. Stockings hanging by the chimney are carefully folded and stashed away, along with the other Christmas ornaments. The tree, which strongly symbolizes an ancient pagan tradition, is carefully stored in the attic or placed on the curb, awaiting the arrival of the garbage truck. The holiday spirit is, once again, bidding farewell.

Christmas is most people's favorite holiday. It is the time when families exorcise the ghost of troubles past and reunite around the dinner table--enjoying each other's company and love. However, the holidays also leave a bittersweet taste in our mouth. Once they're over, we wish we could travel back in time and relive the day over and over again--or at least until we tire of it. Christmas digs a hole in the ground of our soul and leaves it empty. Our trinkets--which were so beautifully wrapped and placed under the fir tree--are painful reminders of a day long gone. And we wonder, "Was it real or was it a dream?" No, it was undeniably real. The candy wrappers littering the floor should serve as reminders that it happened. We can and have had perfect days. Christmas was mine.

Post-Christmas blues is horrible. It has been likened to depression. It slowly eats away at you and constricts your throat. It is a cloud floating ominously over your head, waiting to release the accumulated raindrops. It produces a lingering feeling of emptiness after the last relative has waved good-bye. It is a sickness of the soul derived from the ingrained notion that we can't be happy any other day of the year, except around the holidays. I had an amazing Christmas and I'm sad to see it go.

I'm grieving. I'm processing. If I don't have a funeral for this day of wonder and magic, I'll never move on.