Melancholy Christmas and a box of death

I'm keeping it real simple for the holidays this year. Just me and my dog. Oh... and the birds too. I'm probably going to go to church on Christmas Eve and I might go to see the movie "Nine" on Christmas Day with some friends and then hang out. That's about it. I really don't have a family and none of my friends seem to be doing anything big this year either. It's that kind of year.

I'm not depressed or anything, but I can't say I'm overjoyed either. Melancholy. I guess that's the word that sums it up. It's been a rough year filled with surgeries, the loss of a long-term job, heartbreak and betrayal, and many, many changes. It's also been a year of great personal growth, the addition of some new skills, some great new opportunities, and many successes. Just another year, I guess.

The boxes of Christmas decorations were still on my garage floor from last year, so I opened a couple of them and put some really cheesy decorations around the house. One of the boxes had a whole bunch of Christmas stockings that I have collected over the years. Each stocking with the name of someone dear to me proudly displayed in silver glue-glitter. I remember making each and every one of them. Sad part is, most of the people connected with them are dead. I posted a picture of a few of them here, but there are many more.

So what do you do with the Christmas stockings of the dead? I couldn't quite bring myself to hang them up. Someone told me to hang them and remember the good times and love connected with them. Unfortunately, there are not to many good memories and good feelings that are attached to them. An ex-lover who cheated on me with my best friend and half of New York, blamed me for it ("Well, you stopped going to the gym."), and then died years later. My chain smoking, cancer filled, oxygen mask wearing, abusive, unmedicated, paranoid schizophrenic mother who's last words to me before she totally lost her mind were, "You are going to die all alone in the dark, with the blinds closed, with no one there for you." A stocking for my "father" a "man" I didn't even know was my father until 10 years after he died. Not too many good memories connected there.

But I wrote their names in glue. And I sprinkled the glitter on. Turning simple, store-bought red stockings into pretty, heartwarming mementos. Even if they were not that in reality. I guess I've always tried to make pretty things out of the ugly. Good memories out of the bad. Love out of hate or indifference.

So I pulled out the stocking for my dog Cynder and closed the box. I'll open it again when I have to put the cheesy decorations strewn around my house back in. And I'll scoop out the stockings of the dead. And I'll throw them out. Sometimes glue and glitter just isn't enough to brighten up the darkness. Sometimes you need to clear out the junk that's casting the shadows. Let some new light shine in. A new year is just around the corner.