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Abstract

ly because my husband had no interest. I had been in this play in sixth grade, seen every movie version, and read the Dickens tale countless times.My character was Belle, Scrooge’s girlfriend. I was assigned this role by my teacher who refused to consider me for any other part. Scrooge’s girlfriend was a young lady by the name of Belle. My father had moved us to Colorado from N.C. that summer, a very unhappy time for me. I was teased daily about my southern accent, the worst bully was my teacher. He claimed because the character was named Belle, I was the only possible choice to play her because of my accent. Never mind this had nothing to do with the southern United States.Nonetheless, I remember my parents and siblings were proud of me. My costume was authentic, and my older sister had returned from boarding school in the east, just in time to put my hair up in typical fashion for the time period. I worked hard on my lines, southern accent and all, and it went well. That night, at least was a happy one for me.Therefore, I had fond memories of that event. Unfortunately, I didn’t enjoy the production I saw this weekend. The main character, Scrooge, is played by an actor who puts this production on every year, to much renown. I did not know he wrecks the play by interspersing it with jabs about current events. Mainly COVID. And way too much of it. The longer this went on, the worst it became. I must have been the only member of the audience who wasn’t in on the joke. As I looked out, and around me, it appeared as though I was the sole one not laughing.Until last year, Christmas had always been my favorite holiday. I had wonderful childhood memories, combined with those of my own little girls. My older daughter had carried on the tradition by having us arrive every Christmas morning in time to watch out granddaughters open their gifts. Those were some of the happiest days of my life. Pure joy!But everything started going wrong at the play. I always missed my parents terribly around Christmas, especially my father. So there I sat, initially, happily thinking of the play I had been in as a child. The smiles from my parents, so pleased with me, then it all started to fall apart.Initially, I remember thinking, when the stupid jokes began, this isn’t right. It grew worse and worse. The happy thoughts of my parents vanished as I sat there, they were replaced by sadness at the fiasco I was viewing. They wouldn’t have liked this at all. There were several child actors. Of course, Christmas is centered around small children in a family, I had been surrounded for weeks by images of young children excited for the arrival of Santa.Naturally, this brought back memories of the joyful Christmas mornings with my grandda

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ughters. The timing was problematic too. I last saw my older daughter on Christmas Day, two years ago. Shortly thereafter was the last time I saw my granddaughters. Although I was keenly aware these memories were surrounding me during what most of us view as a very happy time, I had managed well this year, even decorating my house. But it all began unraveling at the play.At times, I found myself fighting to hold back tears. My daughter was enjoying the show, she had seen it before. Everyone, I mean everyone around me was laughing. I sat wondering, why isn’t this funny to me? I know I am a changed person. I will never be who I was before I received the call from my daughter’s husband. But is this the way it’s going to be for me? I rarely laugh, but why do I see nothing funny about this production when the rest of the audience finds it hilarious?I don’t know the answers to my questions. Obviously, I didn’t like the play, in fact, it upset me. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. As usual, my younger daughter was trying hard to do something nice for me. The last thing in the world I would ever do is risk hurting her feelings. So I remained in my seat, stoically, as memories of my parents, and granddaughters swirled about my head. I didn’t think of my own daughters. That wasn’t deliberate. Any thoughts of my older daughter now are joyless, even those when she was an infant. Once again, I have no explanation.I’m aware I have virtually no feelings for her. When she crosses my mind, she literally appears to me as a stranger. I don’t know that person. What I do know of her, I don’t like. This could be why she failed to surface Sunday. I can’t separate thoughts of her and my younger daughter when they were young because they did everything together. I often bought identical items for them. They are 23 months apart in age, sameness prevents someone from wanting what another has. Of course, this changed as they became older and their interests differed.I learned several things Sunday. Just because I’ve been doing better doesn’t mean I can let my guard down. This seemed to be a sneak attack, although had the play been traditional I don’t think it would have occurred. I am better, but my life will never be free of great sadness, regardless of how much time passes. In the future, I’ll be on guard for situations that can bring back memories, even very diverse ones. I hope Sunday was an unfortunate fluke. This time of year has been slightly sad for me for 21 years since I lost my father. I’ll be more aware of that.None of this will stop me. I LIKED feeling better, and so do not want to return to my dark corner. I’ve amazed myself at what I’ve learned to do since I left my marriage. I want that to continue. Merry Christmas to you all.</article></body>

Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Breathe

Actually, it isn’t.

I have been doing so much better. Really, the difference is stunning in a sense. When my 11-week old granddaughter was born I didn’t instantly love her, I tried not to. I was afraid. What if something went wrong? She was a preemie as it was. What if she got sick and died, or was killed in an accident? But of course, I couldn’t resist her and fell hard for her.

Within a month I was hopelessly wrapped around this little girl’s finger. Why, I thought, I could resist her charms I’ll never know. Wishful thinking I suppose. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to love her. It was the fear of knowing if something happened to her I wouldn’t be able to withstand the grief.

The lifetime sentence dealt me by my older daughter, removing her precious little girls from my life as punishment, had come very close to finishing me off. Punishment for not having the greatest relationship with her husband, and asking her father for a divorce. After years of abuse and silent suffering, I did the unthinkable. And paid a price I never imagined possible.

Was she brainwashed by her husband? We all think so, meaning every other family member. But that’s speculation. She’s a brilliant girl. I loved and adored her, did everything I possibly could for her. My former husband and younger daughter lived in the house with us every day and are equally puzzled. She hasn’t even been to see her new niece, and I doubt that she will. That nailed the coffin shut on any hope of re-establishing a relationship with her sister. They very well may never see each other again. I have not tried to suggest to my younger daughter what to do. After repeated attempts to communicate, she has been so hurt by her sister’s lack of response I don’t think that relationship can be fixed either.

She is only in touch with her father, who is terrified if he makes one false move, he too will be ousted. In my son-in-law’s words to my younger daughter, upon her call to her sister, ( He Answered )after his infamous call to me, “ I might have to continue putting up with your dad, but your mother left the home! I don’t have to put up with her anymore.”

My infant granddaughter is a ray of hope and light. She smiled at me today! But, just when I thought it was safe to come up for air, I had the wind knocked out of me again. It was Sunday. My younger daughter wanted to take me to see a play that has received critical acclaim in this area for years, A Christmas Carol. For some reason, I had never seen this local version, probably because my husband had no interest. I had been in this play in sixth grade, seen every movie version, and read the Dickens tale countless times.

My character was Belle, Scrooge’s girlfriend. I was assigned this role by my teacher who refused to consider me for any other part. Scrooge’s girlfriend was a young lady by the name of Belle. My father had moved us to Colorado from N.C. that summer, a very unhappy time for me. I was teased daily about my southern accent, the worst bully was my teacher. He claimed because the character was named Belle, I was the only possible choice to play her because of my accent. Never mind this had nothing to do with the southern United States.

Nonetheless, I remember my parents and siblings were proud of me. My costume was authentic, and my older sister had returned from boarding school in the east, just in time to put my hair up in typical fashion for the time period. I worked hard on my lines, southern accent and all, and it went well. That night, at least was a happy one for me.

Therefore, I had fond memories of that event. Unfortunately, I didn’t enjoy the production I saw this weekend. The main character, Scrooge, is played by an actor who puts this production on every year, to much renown. I did not know he wrecks the play by interspersing it with jabs about current events. Mainly COVID. And way too much of it. The longer this went on, the worst it became. I must have been the only member of the audience who wasn’t in on the joke. As I looked out, and around me, it appeared as though I was the sole one not laughing.

Until last year, Christmas had always been my favorite holiday. I had wonderful childhood memories, combined with those of my own little girls. My older daughter had carried on the tradition by having us arrive every Christmas morning in time to watch out granddaughters open their gifts. Those were some of the happiest days of my life. Pure joy!

But everything started going wrong at the play. I always missed my parents terribly around Christmas, especially my father. So there I sat, initially, happily thinking of the play I had been in as a child. The smiles from my parents, so pleased with me, then it all started to fall apart.

Initially, I remember thinking, when the stupid jokes began, this isn’t right. It grew worse and worse. The happy thoughts of my parents vanished as I sat there, they were replaced by sadness at the fiasco I was viewing. They wouldn’t have liked this at all. There were several child actors. Of course, Christmas is centered around small children in a family, I had been surrounded for weeks by images of young children excited for the arrival of Santa.

Naturally, this brought back memories of the joyful Christmas mornings with my granddaughters. The timing was problematic too. I last saw my older daughter on Christmas Day, two years ago. Shortly thereafter was the last time I saw my granddaughters. Although I was keenly aware these memories were surrounding me during what most of us view as a very happy time, I had managed well this year, even decorating my house. But it all began unraveling at the play.

At times, I found myself fighting to hold back tears. My daughter was enjoying the show, she had seen it before. Everyone, I mean everyone around me was laughing. I sat wondering, why isn’t this funny to me? I know I am a changed person. I will never be who I was before I received the call from my daughter’s husband. But is this the way it’s going to be for me? I rarely laugh, but why do I see nothing funny about this production when the rest of the audience finds it hilarious?

I don’t know the answers to my questions. Obviously, I didn’t like the play, in fact, it upset me. I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. As usual, my younger daughter was trying hard to do something nice for me. The last thing in the world I would ever do is risk hurting her feelings. So I remained in my seat, stoically, as memories of my parents, and granddaughters swirled about my head. I didn’t think of my own daughters. That wasn’t deliberate. Any thoughts of my older daughter now are joyless, even those when she was an infant. Once again, I have no explanation.

I’m aware I have virtually no feelings for her. When she crosses my mind, she literally appears to me as a stranger. I don’t know that person. What I do know of her, I don’t like. This could be why she failed to surface Sunday. I can’t separate thoughts of her and my younger daughter when they were young because they did everything together. I often bought identical items for them. They are 23 months apart in age, sameness prevents someone from wanting what another has. Of course, this changed as they became older and their interests differed.

I learned several things Sunday. Just because I’ve been doing better doesn’t mean I can let my guard down. This seemed to be a sneak attack, although had the play been traditional I don’t think it would have occurred. I am better, but my life will never be free of great sadness, regardless of how much time passes. In the future, I’ll be on guard for situations that can bring back memories, even very diverse ones. I hope Sunday was an unfortunate fluke. This time of year has been slightly sad for me for 21 years since I lost my father. I’ll be more aware of that.

None of this will stop me. I LIKED feeling better, and so do not want to return to my dark corner. I’ve amazed myself at what I’ve learned to do since I left my marriage. I want that to continue. Merry Christmas to you all.