O Christmas Tree

Today we decorated the house, somewhat. Lights and garlands and tinsel. The boy loves it so much and I really didn't want to do it, but because of him, I forced myself.

I'm tired. Not physically. Emotionally and mentally. I'm tired of being everything, yet nothing.

I'm tired of being lonely and unloved, uncherished by someone special.

I'm tired of being a single mom. Of being the laughing mom and the stern mom. Of being the humble and poor mom and still spoiling him. I'm tired of being the forgiving mother who tries to teach her son not to hate the man that walked out on us, twice, while a seething pit of white hot rage burns at the bottom of my soul.

Who is he to walk out on this boy? Who is he to make this kid question his mother about his father and if he will ever come back? He says that he will never talk to him, and yes, he is only four and probably doesn't have a clue what he is saying, but the feeling is there. He just doesn't know the words for it. If it wasn't, he wouldn't say things like that. The feeling of being abandoned and not worthy. He asked me if Jake was ever going to come back and I said he might someday, because Jake will eventually want to know him, not just of him. And he told me that if Jake did come back, he wouldn't talk to him, he wouldn't be with him. That he, Ty, would go someplace else. How can my baby have these feelings already? The resentment and the 'fuck you'-edness of being abandoned by his dad? It hurts me because no baby should feel that way. It makes me angry. It makes me fume.

Just today, I was telling Merce that I missed Jake. Not the woman missing the man sort of missing him, but missing him as a pal, someone who could always make me laugh. And tonight, when I should be sleeping, I am sitting here, fuming and wanting to HURT him.

I am wanting to hurt him for hurting my little boy. I am wanting to hurt him for not giving a shit about this most amazing little person. I want to hurt him for walking away and not coming back to help us up off of our knees.

I hate him right now. I hate him for being weak and selfish and immature. I hate him for not being the kind of man my son needs him to be and for not showing my son where he comes from. Although, I suppose his absence shows plenty of where he comes from.

And Christmas is approaching. For me, it's always been a time for family. Well, we have 2 absent fathers and a grandmother who is depressed and just wants the holidays to pass by without notice. Wonderful. No wonder the Christmas spirit isn't quite working for me as of yet.

When we were younger, my mom adored Christmas. Well, she did up until a few years ago. But the older she gets, the more she dislikes them. For us, the holidays were always special. She made them that way. It just seems like she is taking the magic out of it anymore.

She used to make huge gingerbread houses that she'd cut out of cardboard. I'm talking huge. They were beautiful and magical and meticulous. Now, she doesn't even want to make dinner. She used to make sugar cookies that the memory of still makes my mouth water. Now, she pulls a frozen pie or two out of the freezer. I know she's old and she doesn't want to do this stuff. We would do it, if she asked. But she just doesn't want it. She doesn't want to be reminded of it. She would nit pick and drive us all crazy before the turkey was even in the oven and afterward, tell us everything we did wrong.

I miss her. I miss the mom of yesteryear. The one who would sing Christmas carols at the top of her lungs, giggling all the while. I miss the mom who would spend hours on her gingerbread houses, then go to bed at night smelling of frosting and gumdrops. I miss her spirit. For some reason or another, it's been leached out of her and I don't know how to restore it. I don't know how to do it without her and her Christmas carol screeching. I don't know where to find my own spirit because it seems as if the key to unlocking it lies somewhere within her sugar cookies and frosting smell.

I know I'm a big girl. I know that our parents die. I know that one day, I will really have to do it without her. I just wish she wouldn't have made me start doing it before she was gone, so that the Christmas spirit lived on in her memory.