Seeing posts about decorating for Christmas reminded me of the tree the kids and I put up in 2013 in our apartment.
My ex-husband and I had been separated for nearly a year at that point and after renting a house from a friend for the first seven months, I was able to get us into a nice, safe and cozy apartment.
The first Christmas after a marriage ends is probably always a memorable one and for the wrong reasons. In figuring out custody and holiday arrangements, as usual I had to be the bigger person and the generous one, so it was decided the kids would spend that first Christmas with their dad at their grandparents.
He was allowed to have them for up to ten days and used every single one. They left town the day before my birthday. Not by accident I’m sure. December 20 and they didn’t return until the 30th.
It was a sad and very depressing Christmas for me. I could’ve gone home to my parents and sisters but showing up there empty handed and alone, without my kids, seemed too embarrassing. The loneliness too raw. So I stayed home. I picked up overtime shifts at the personal care home. Christmas Eve, Christmas Day I worked evening shifts.
My Christmas dinner that year was a quick trip to McDonald’s on my supper break. I’ll never forget that feeling. Sitting there alone, eating. Christmas Day. Without my kids.
I had volunteered that morning at the Community Christmas lunch, an event for people less fortunate who couldn’t afford or would otherwise have a turkey dinner or gifts for their kids. I thought that being there and giving my time and giving of myself would somehow fill the void I was experiencing but it didn’t.
I went through the motions all day, feigning cheerfulness but feeling almost robotic.
I survived, the kids came back. We did our own Christmas.
Life goes on but that feeling comes back when I remember.
bloom.planted.north 
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