I remember as a child christmas was the most fantastic time of year.
I remember the build up to christmas day, from the moment school finished on that one last day of term, the excitement and anticipation could barely be contained in my house. Growing every day that we got closer to the 25th until I had whipped the whole house up into a festive whirpool, and , to quote my husband ( ever the sharp witted cynic) it looked like someone had vomited christmas all over the house , inside and out. And I loved every second of it.
I was nagging to have the decorations up as early as November , catching christmas beetles and whispering lists of all the presents that I wanted to them before letting them go outside my window. I made my brothers and anyone else I could bully enough come caroling with me ( yes , I made them go caroling in the height of an Africa Summer) , I made my parents stay up late on christmas eve , with the tree lights going , just sitting and talking and singing carols and reading the bible to each other.
It was the one day when I remember all the family tiffs and squabbles got set aside , and everyone poured into our back yard for a massive christmas lunch , and afternoon of relaxing , swimming and playing. One or another of my uncles would climb into a cheap plastic Santa outfit and come walking around the house to dish out the presents sometime after lunch.
I could never really understand why my father seemed sad, and always seemed to get more enjoyment from my excitement than anything else. Oh don't get me wrong - he was as happy as the next bloke to be around his wife and kids for a whole day, but there was always this sadness around him that I could never place.
I knew that my grandfather had died before I was born, but I suppose as a child these things are meaningless really , you cannot conceive of a world that existed before you came along , and besides , it was so long ago ( a whole lifetime of 12 years or so , that's ancient times to a child. )
I always assumed that because my father never spoke about my grandfather much, that it was all something in the past. Long gone , water under the bridge in a manner of speaking.
It really never occurred to me until much later , after my maternal grandparents had died in a horrific car accident , and my father was shot and killed, that his christmas experience was as tainted by angst and loneliness as mine has become.
I am not a christian, and the day means very little to me in that respect now. But it has taken on a significant family tradition of being together, and my last 2 Christmases in South Africa, we had my nephew , who is now turning 3, which was an experience beyond anything I have ever had.
I get it now. I understand the spending sprees , the endless piles and piles of presents under the tree, I get the mass consumerism that drives the holiday as every parent , and aunt and uncle and grandparent searches high and low for the best possible present that could be found for their special darling child.
I understand the sadness in my father's eyes. I see now why he took so much joy from giving me presents , hugs , kisses and just generally loving his little princess until she felt like the only child in the world.
And I hope that if he is somewhere watching over me now - that he knows how much I miss and love him.
Right now - Australia is the worst place in the world to me, because outside , there are people with their families , children riding their brand new bicycles and skateboards. Grandparents going home after being with their children and grandchildren for the whole day. People are winding down from a day of family and fun.
And me ? I am sitting at my desk in a country where my nearest relative is a 2 hour plane flight away, and the closest I can get to seeing my mother , brothers and nephew is a phone call that I cannot even get right , because for some reason , none of them have their phones on right now.
I am rapidly starting to hate this time of year. Call me the grinch, or scrooge , whatever - I understand their pain. Bah Humbug !
I remember the build up to christmas day, from the moment school finished on that one last day of term, the excitement and anticipation could barely be contained in my house. Growing every day that we got closer to the 25th until I had whipped the whole house up into a festive whirpool, and , to quote my husband ( ever the sharp witted cynic) it looked like someone had vomited christmas all over the house , inside and out. And I loved every second of it.
I was nagging to have the decorations up as early as November , catching christmas beetles and whispering lists of all the presents that I wanted to them before letting them go outside my window. I made my brothers and anyone else I could bully enough come caroling with me ( yes , I made them go caroling in the height of an Africa Summer) , I made my parents stay up late on christmas eve , with the tree lights going , just sitting and talking and singing carols and reading the bible to each other.
It was the one day when I remember all the family tiffs and squabbles got set aside , and everyone poured into our back yard for a massive christmas lunch , and afternoon of relaxing , swimming and playing. One or another of my uncles would climb into a cheap plastic Santa outfit and come walking around the house to dish out the presents sometime after lunch.
I could never really understand why my father seemed sad, and always seemed to get more enjoyment from my excitement than anything else. Oh don't get me wrong - he was as happy as the next bloke to be around his wife and kids for a whole day, but there was always this sadness around him that I could never place.
I knew that my grandfather had died before I was born, but I suppose as a child these things are meaningless really , you cannot conceive of a world that existed before you came along , and besides , it was so long ago ( a whole lifetime of 12 years or so , that's ancient times to a child. )
I always assumed that because my father never spoke about my grandfather much, that it was all something in the past. Long gone , water under the bridge in a manner of speaking.
It really never occurred to me until much later , after my maternal grandparents had died in a horrific car accident , and my father was shot and killed, that his christmas experience was as tainted by angst and loneliness as mine has become.
I am not a christian, and the day means very little to me in that respect now. But it has taken on a significant family tradition of being together, and my last 2 Christmases in South Africa, we had my nephew , who is now turning 3, which was an experience beyond anything I have ever had.
I get it now. I understand the spending sprees , the endless piles and piles of presents under the tree, I get the mass consumerism that drives the holiday as every parent , and aunt and uncle and grandparent searches high and low for the best possible present that could be found for their special darling child.
I understand the sadness in my father's eyes. I see now why he took so much joy from giving me presents , hugs , kisses and just generally loving his little princess until she felt like the only child in the world.
And I hope that if he is somewhere watching over me now - that he knows how much I miss and love him.
Right now - Australia is the worst place in the world to me, because outside , there are people with their families , children riding their brand new bicycles and skateboards. Grandparents going home after being with their children and grandchildren for the whole day. People are winding down from a day of family and fun.
And me ? I am sitting at my desk in a country where my nearest relative is a 2 hour plane flight away, and the closest I can get to seeing my mother , brothers and nephew is a phone call that I cannot even get right , because for some reason , none of them have their phones on right now.
I am rapidly starting to hate this time of year. Call me the grinch, or scrooge , whatever - I understand their pain. Bah Humbug !
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