holidays

A divorce doesn't prevent the holidays from coming, but it certainly changes them and  complicates them a bit. I went from a father who tucked his son into bed on Christmas Eve, and was there when he awoke on Christmas morning, to a dad who drives cross town to pick him up on the 25th, consequently missing out on both the "eve" and "the morning."

Traditions have to be revisited, often to appease a court order, signed by a stranger. That's the way it is. Over time, hopefully, lines of communication can grow to allow "flexibility." But a child is by far the most important factor in all of this. Not the petty pissing matches of his parents.

The number on the calendar tends to mean less to me than it used to. I attend mass on Christmas Eve, and I miss my son. The singing of Silent Night brings tears to my cheeks for more reasons than it does the others in the pew, but this reflection and ceremony of emotion, fueled by absence, along with heartfelt thanks for another year of his health and happiness (he was born on December 31st), serves to strengthen my bond with Finn. 

I have always tried to create  new traditions for my son and I during the holiday season. We hang stockings, he and I, and we put up and decorate a tree. This year he hung every ornament himself with pride. We have an advent calendar, and I am charged with "keeping up" when he's not with me. I also put out a plate of cookies on Christmas Eve, that are mysteriously consumed, save some crumbs before Finn and I arrive home. Our Christmas is on the evening of Christmas Day, after the trip to relatives, good warm showers, the donning of pajamas, and some special snacks. We sit in front of the fire and I get to be Santa's conduit. But I also get to be Finn's father at a time when being so is the greatest gift I will ever receive. I have enough socks, and I purchase my own cologne. We stay up late, laughing, until he just can't keep his eyes open anymore. That's when I get to tuck him in.

The next morning we have a grand breakfast together, and plot our day of doing nothing. Nothing at all. The 26th is the Feast of St. Stephen (St. Stephen's Day) for good Catholics, Boxing Day for you Kiwis and Canadian friends. With all due respect to the liturgical calendar, and a nod to old St. Steve, I like to joke that this is MY day (my name is Stephen after all.) My special Christmas Day with Finn.