This Christmas

Last year was my last year for putting up lights for the holidays. I knew I was never going to want to again, and I was right. I don’t.

It was never the same after my son died.

Why pretend? Christmas 2017 was the last day I ever saw him. That year Christmas died in me.

There’s one more thing I’m not going to do.

I’m not going to repost my usual Christmas memior about my first Christmas away from my kids.

I’m here to tell you that their loss hit me hard, still does, will keep doing so until I die.

But if I can’t say that it gets better, then I can at least tell you, when you lose someone, you’ll never be the same, but it does get more bearable.

It takes a lot of time spent in agony, but, one day only, at a time, you keep moving. You occupy your mind. Maybe it’s more like existing than living, but it beats dying. One day it will be easier.

When you have a mental illness and serious loss on top of it, I can only tell you that even when you’re not able to feel it, you will begin to fight back.

I could have done a lot of things after Junior died. I could easily have found his dealer and killed him. I had murder in my heart, sure. But nobody forced him to take what he knew would kill him. I blame the people who gave him the money more than the pusher. I blame those who enabled him that day and years prior to it. Mostly, it was him. I was a user once. I know that hell. There’s recovery, but no forgetting, addiction.

I’ve nobody to give gifts to. No one to mail a card to. No one who would appreciate getting anything from such an asshole as myself. I have tried, but it felt like buying someone’s friendship. And it never works but one way, and you don’t get the joy from it that you get from giving. It feels so hollow. I’d rather do something to help a stranger in need.

No one in my family will call. I sure as hell won’t call them.

The time has passed. Christmas doesn’t need me, and I have passed my need for it. My phone will be silent.

But I will be at peace. Not completely; that’s not possible, but as much at peace as I can be. What more can a man ask for at Christmas?

I hope none of you took offense to my post about the United States being on the edge of losing its democracy, posted yesterday. I wouldn’t call my readers names, but there’s a large number of folks here who just don’t care about fighting for justice anymore.

Simon Whistler, a famous YouTube guy, lost me a few months back, when he said something was “about as relatable as an Assassin’s Creed game.”

I’ve wondered ever since why he would disrespect his own followers, many of whom no doubt have played at least one AC game. This year I spent mainly on two games; Assassin’s Creed Odyssey and before that, in January, Assassin’s Creed Origins. These games are fantasy, obviously violent, and they combine good, solid gameplay with awesome voice acting. Odyssey takes place in the Peloponnesian War, while Origins is set in Egypt during Cleopatra’s overthrow of her brother with Julius Caesar’s help.

Although fantasy, the stories have a bit of everything. They let you slowly get to know your character, invest in them, and then run you through a wringer of loss and regret.

We have, all of us, lost people who we loved. Covid surely introduced some people to loss way too early, and that’s a heartbreaking thing for me to even write. What’s more relatable than loss? Nobody gets off this blue marble without feeling the darkness of loss, the pain of a broken heart.

I don’t see why a video game has to be derided as being fringe entertainment far removed from music or drama or film.

I’m very pleased to have passed a lot of time this year playing great games and writing this blog, seeing you give a post a like or just visiting, and I’m blessed. I promise, I won’t take you for granted. You Tuber Simon has so many subscribers that he forgot how he got them. I think that’s one thing from this year I will not forget.

Though I’ve spared you from my Christmas repost, you can feel free to browse the archive and find it.

As it approaches, this Christmas has a lot of people unwilling to spend a lot. Most Americans live at or below the poverty level and food prices are scaring us all. We should fear the Trumpian movement, which desperately wants to make Biden look like a failure so they can get you to vote them all back in and “save the day” for America. But they’re not interested in saving anything. They want power and money. They’ll crush this country under the heels of jackboots before they’re done. I’ll never understand why so many seem willing to sit back and let it happen.

People from amazing places around the world have dropped in to read what I’ve written. Some have stopped while others are new, and some probably read one post and never want to read another one. That’s how it works. I’m grateful for every one of you.

As I wish you a happy holiday and give my prayers that you are well, safe and will be at peace in the coming year, there’s one more thing I want to say.

The essence of my usual Christmas post is this: you never know how long you have left, and you never know how much longer someone you’ve loved as a friend or your soul mate will be in your life. Tell them today how much they have meant for you. How much they have made you happy, or even how proud of them you are. Forgive past arguments and everything else; just tell them that you love them. You don’t want things left unsaid. Those turn into bitter pain, guilt and regret.

In other words, don’t be me.

Be well, be safe, and be honorable.

Being part Irish and Scottish, I’d like to pass on a couple of traditional blessings. They come from others but I repeat them here with all of my heart:

May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

May your days be many and your troubles be few,

may all God’s blessings descend upon you,

may peace be within you,

may your heart be strong,

may you find what you’re seeking wherever you roam.

May the road rise to meet you,

may the wind be always at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

the rains fall soft upon your fields.

Happy holidays, and thank you for letting me be a small part of your life.