Curse of Christmas Past

Nightmare Before Christmas

"Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful..." 

The sound of holiday music grew louder as I walked towards the living room where my mother had been vigorously decorating for Christmas. Every year, our whole family gathered in our living room for fun, games, and Christmas stories. Two years ago, my grandmother had an accident that devastated our family at Christmas, and now my mother was more determined than ever to make Christmas happy for us again. 

The decorations have to be just right, and my mother has the perfect touch. 

I stand at the doorway of the living room in awe of her as she dances around with tinsel and garland, stringing it up across the mantel and along the walls. 

"Hanna, there you are. Come in, Sweety." She turns to face me and motions me to come inside. "We need to decorate the tree." 

My mother took pride in decorating the entirety of our home as if it were a palace, but the tree was always saved for last. It was a family project. It was tradition. We had keepsake ornaments and heirloom baubles that my family had passed down for generations, and I got to help place them on the tree. It made me feel special. It made us feel connected. 

I ran over to her and smiled as I picked up the first ornament to place on the tree. I wasn't very tall, so many of my ornaments centralized on the bottom of the tree while my father and mother decorated higher up. 

Finally after awhile, all of the ornaments are hung, the lights are wrapped around the tree, and the tinsel is draped just perfectly along the branches. Our tree is beautiful, it's only missing one thing... the angel on top.

"I'll get it, Honey." My Father stated, as he reached down to pull out the porcelain faced angel tree topper from her special box. 

She was a beautiful angel, with luxurious wavy blonde hair that flowed down her back, stunning icy blue eyes that sparkled in the light, and a princess style blue and white dress with wintry snowflakes on it that flowed ever so elegantly and was velvety to the touch.  I was not allowed to handle her. She was a family heirloom... the oldest heirloom. 

My father handed my mother the angel and then took her coffee cup to refill it. "I'll be right back, Honey. If you wait for me, I'll help you put her on the top." He nodded, and went off towards the kitchen.

 My eyes followed him for a moment, as I pondered on going for a glass of milk and a cookie. Dad made the best homemade cookies and the house was filled with the smell of fresh sugar cookies now. 

"Oh no, it's fine." I heard my mother mumble, as she began to reach to place the angel on the top of the tree.

I turned back around to watch as she climbed towards the top of the tree. "Be careful, Mom." I said to her with some worry. 

"It's alright, dear." She grunted as she climbed the step stool to the highest stair and leaned into the tree to place the angel. "I've almost got it... just a little further." She grunted, as she stood on her tiptoes and began to lower the angel onto the highest branch of the tree.

Suddenly, I heard her scream as she began to waver uncontrollably atop the stool. 

"Mommy!" I shouted, as I ran towards the tree but she threw her hand out as if to stop me coming any closer. "Mom!" I cried, uncontrollably. "What's the matter?"

She began screaming utterances I couldn't understand while she kicked her feet and became more entangled within the stool and the tree. The more she struggled, the more the tree began to shake and topple. 

"Honey!" My father shouted, as he came running into the room to see what all the commotion was about. "Stop! Stop moving! Calm down and I'll help you." He shouted through her screams as he tried to hold the tree in place from the other side, but she wasn't listening. She just kept panicking and thrashing about. 

I stood there in shock as the stool gave way and fell onto the floor throwing her and our tree into our bay window. The music on the radio seemed to just stop as the sound of glass from the window and several ornaments shattering filled the room. 

Suddenly, everything fell silent and I felt my heart drop.

"Maria!" My father shouted, as he rushed to the other side of the tree, pushing it out of the way so he could find her, and then he peered out the broken window. "Maria!"

"Mom?" I cried, as I walked over to where my father was standing. "Mom?" 

"No... no, no, no. Hanna, go. You don't need to see this." My father's voice cracked. "Go! Go to your room!" He shouted through tears as he tried to push me away.

I followed a trail of broken Christmas lights out of the frame of the broken window and down into our lawn, where my mother lay lifeless in the snow. 

"Mom..." I whimpered.

"Hanna! Hanna... wake up, Hanna!" Jonathan, called out to me as I followed his voice. "You're having a nightmare, Han, wake up." He held me tightly. 

I opened my eyes and wiped away tears as the last memories of my mother echoed distantly in the back of my mind. It had been twenty-three years since my mother died, but what happened was still just as vivid... especially as it drew nearer to Christmas. 

"You okay?" Jonathan asked. "You were screaming and shaking." He brushed my hair behind my ear. 

I smiled at him and replied, "I am now." 

He kissed me gently and then stood up and began to walk towards the bathroom. "Make sure you're ready when I get home this afternoon..." 

I looked at him puzzled and replied, "Why? Do we have plans?" 

He turned back and nodded, "Yes. It's our first Christmas in this house. I thought we'd go pick out a tree and decorate." 

I felt my heart sink as I saw the light in his eyes. I didn't want to kill his joy and excitement, but I hated Christmas. Christmas has taken so much from me.

"Do we have to?" I shrugged, trying to downplay all of the disdain I had for the holiday. "We can just do something small this year, I mean, we just moved in a few weeks ago and I don't want us to get overwhelmed." 

He shook his head and sat down next to me, "No, this is ours. Our home, our family, and our traditions. I wanna build a foundation with you and Emma, make traditions, and make every moment count." His voice rattled with joy. 

I felt so broken inside but I couldn't kill his joy, his hopes, and dreams.

"Honey..." he lifted my chin to gaze into my eyes. "I know you aren't as excited about Christmas as I am, but I feel like this is the year we change all that." He held my face in his hands, "I want us to be the reason you learn to love Christmas again." 

I cried again. "I know, babe. I love you so much. I want all those things you said, it's just so hard... I miss my mom so much." 

He grabbed me and held me close as he whispered, "I know you do, and nothing can ever replace that feeling, but we can start to build happy memories from here on out. You just have to be willing to try." 

I nodded. "Okay... we'll go get a tree. I'll call Dad and see if he'll watch Emma this evening." 

Jonathan basically jumped from the bed in pure joy like a child ecstatic that I agreed, kissed me on my forehead, and then rushed off into the bathroom to shower for work.

I had avoided this dreaded holiday for twenty-three years, and now I'm allowing it back into my life for the man I love and our three year old little girl. I felt a sense of dread creeping up into my chest as I sat there replaying the memories of losing my grandmother and my mother at Christmas when I was a child. 

What have I done? 

New house, new tree and decorations with new traditions...

maybe it won't be so bad.