Christmas is one of the most awaited holidays of the year. A time when relatives folk back home to join and celebrate the festivities as one big family. Growing up, we celebrate Christmas at my aunts house (my mom's sister). You see I am more close to my mom's side of the family compared to my dad's. My aunt who used to work for City Hall inherited my lola's house and lot. It's a long stretch of property heading to the beach.
The space is just a few walks from the beach. I can still remember where the nipa huts were as it has been where we used to celebrate the holidays. Just like any family, we have things that we put in the table. Aunt D would usually create her mayo-filled chicken macaroni salad, buko salad and anything dessert. My cousin R would bake the cakes and make polvoron (my fave), my Aunt T would make the biko and budbud and my Aunt L would cook the meat along with my mom. My dad would usually take care of the roasted pig out in the back along with my Uncle T. It's a big event, my Aunt E would act as the host and we would party all night courtesy of my dad's stereo and music. We would have games and fire crackers to pop at midnight. We'd have a lovely time, singing, dancing and laughing the night away.
Growing up that has been a tradition, until we all grew adults people moved to far away places and we barely see each other as often as we could. Christmas now for me is a sad day. I am away from my mom, my dad is in the heavens and I chose to work instead of being home. I guess, my priorities have changed. I chose work over everything else now - back in the day I would catch the holiday cheer as early as November. Now, it's not the same anymore.
I drown myself in work to ignore the sadness I feel. I divert my attention to avoid crying and there are just some times that I want to wallow in it.
To feel - to be sad.
To regret.
To mourn.
I grew up faster than anyone else did. Thought 3 steps ahead of my life comparing to anyone at my age. I had amazing plans, failed most of them but struggling to make it through.
I miss the Christmas we used to have.
I miss my mom.
My dad, most especially.
and who I was back then.
The most wonderful time of the year is a constant reminder of what we have lost.
The most wonderful time of the year is a constant reminder of what we have lost.
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