End Times

In which our Hero’s family Christmas party will be at a different address this year

I keep wanting to write about how much I’m enjoying my holiday this year, and the holiday keeps on adding speed-bumps that don’t exactly remove my enjoyment but they do kind of circumscribe it in places.

For one, the Family has always had tent-pole events. Various holidays move around, but my Godmother has always been the queen of Christmas, and my mother has been the Queen of New Years, and so has it been in my memory going back so many years. But Godmother is feeling the strain of it in recent years and this year, after threats the last few years, she declared she’d served her time. The party takes too much out of her and she can’t let go of enough things to let other people carry it.

My mother is also feeling the weight of age. She’s much more reluctant to give up the tradition, but with my Godmother giving way, I think she’s thinking about it. New Years is a harder event, too, because people aren’t piled into their cars at midnight; and my mom needs her rest to really be functional. My dad and I are trying to make the case that nobody will be the least bit offended if she takes a nap during the night, but she feels her duties as a hostess very strongly. Likewise, instead of cooking everything herself, I’ve been trying to talk her into ordering some of the food. That way she only has to do the parts she really enjoys or that feel like her signatures.Thus far, she refuses all these concessions. Thus far, she also refuses to give up the party, but the day is coming.

But the biggest development in the party planning this year is the latest progression in one of the families. My uncle has a particularly nasty cancer with a particularly unrelenting mortality rate. And over the last few days, there’s been a clear sense of development without good news. His parents were already scheduled to visit later in the year, but they flipped their flights and are already in country.

Which has had the family talking, because we have both the New Christmas party and New Years and nobody knows what to do. Is it inconsiderate to have a party anyway, should we cancel, what if something happens?

Frankly, my feeling is to have the party. We’ve planned to gather the clan together, I don’t know how illness or sadness really change that mandate. I understand that some people may not feel festive, but then they’re free to stay home. For the rest, it’s a chance to reconnect with family and reinforce the bonds that give us the reasons for our sorrows. But I understand the need to make a gesture, to show that we’re affected by the grief of a family member. It’s very reasonable.

Except I’m really bummed at the possibility that the parties will be cancelled. I don’t want the family to be sad. I think on those poor kids and the loss they’ve been having to brace against for the last few years and my first thought is simply that I hope he can find the strength to struggle on past the new year and into February. I don’t think life will leave things so neat, but that’s my secret prayer, that the season of their sorrow will leave them seasons of happiness.

Irrationally, I’m also deeply resentful. Because of the same uncertainty, we skipped celebrating my parents 40th wedding anniversary. Nobody could figure out how to handle an event about the longevity of a marriage when one of the regulars was faced with this. And again I understand, and I was one of the ones who decided that we would forgo the pomp. But how much of my moments is the right amount to sacrifice in support?

It’s a horrible thought, and I feel really guilty about it. I know enough people who have lost family members, parents, and I know for them, the gestures mean something. I try to remind myself that the feeling of resentment *is* the offering to the afflicted family, that giving up something I value is the support, even if they can’t see it. But it sucks.

I probably sound like an asshole here. In my small defense, I’m not so much resentful for my sake (because I’m still free to make New Year’s martinis), but my parents have accomplished something and they’re deprived of the marking of it.

In the end, the answer came from my Godmother, who had just returned this afternoon from visiting her brother-in-law. The news is not good. They’ve basically ended the treatment portion of the program. Now he’s on a morphine drip just to manage the pain. Which makes it all a matter of time. “No need to cancel anything,” Godmother says. “Nothing is going to change.”

“Not yet.”