The Irreverent Widow

Salsa dancing around the Christmas tree.

by Sandi Amorello

The first Christmas season that we faced alone also marked the one-year anniversary of his death. A double whammy. Any time of the year is a bad time to lose your husband…but Christmastime is a particularly bad time to die. Try to avoid it at all costs.

I pulled myself together. I avoided Christmas carols…I changed the radio station every time I’d hear the mere hint of a sleigh bell jingling during that first holiday season. But I couldn’t cancel Christmas. I had three young children. It was bad enough that they had lost their daddy…I couldn’t let Santa die on them, too. So, I did the best I could to make things “normal.” We decorated the house. We baked cookies shaped like trees and candy canes and bells.

I didn’t venture out to buy a Christmas tree until the week before Christmas. It was just too difficult. Maybe it was because I had such vivid memories of the perfect tree we had had the year before…the one that our friends put up while I was at the hospital, watching Drew slowly slip away from me.

The children and I finally went out one evening and got a tree at the quaint little tree place down the street from our quaint little house. It was a beautiful evening…and it was a beautiful tree. The tree people tied it atop our Ford Explorer…and off we went. Smelling of peppermint and balsam. When we got home…the kids went inside to play…and I untied the tree, got the cast iron stand out of it’s box in the basement…and proceeded to wrestle the tree off of the roof of the truck, through the front door, and into the living room. I had no idea how large that tree was until I had it inside of the house. It was enormous. Undoubtedly the biggest tree we had ever purchased. It was so unwieldy…I remember having the kids helping to hoist it into a bucket of fresh water…which is when I realized I had to hack off a good eight or nine inches of the trunk if we wanted it to stand up within the confines of our 8’6″ living room ceiling. So, there I was… ten o’clock at night…Christmas carols playing on the stereo…as I sawed away. It was not an easy feat, but I did it. By the time I got it into the stand, I was sweating like a woman who had just run a marathon…or had been making wild, passionate love for hours on end. Sadly, I couldn’t blame my sweatiness on either of those as activities.

Yet, as I stood back to look at the tree standing there in the corner of the living room…to observe my work…I felt like Super Woman. Or Wonder Woman. Some superhero of some sort…the sort with breasts and a spandex thong. All I know is…it was the biggest tree we ever had, and I had done it all by myself. It was empowering. I figured…if I could bury my husband and put up that Christmas tree all within the course of one short year, I could successfully navigate anything.

After quite a bit of untangling…I put all of the many strings of tiny little lights on the tree. It was getting rather late, but I was on a mission. My children were counting on me for some holiday normalcy…and I was going to give it to them, damnit. I reached the last string of lights…and the children gathered around, waiting anxiously to be able to hang the ornaments and toss the tinsel around. I plugged the bottom string into the wall socket…and…NOTHING. Nothing lit up. Nothing twinkled. Nothing blinked or showed any sign of life. I jiggled things and unplugged and replugged each string…and still, absolutely nothing.

It was then that I lost it. All I remember is tearing strings of lights off of an 8-foot tall balsam fir…and swearing. And sobbing. I think that was when my three children ran upstairs and hid under the bed or the computer table or something.

Fortunately, when I fall apart, I am usually able to regain my composure and pull myself back together in relatively short order. I had visions of my poor children sitting in some therapist’s office when they were grown up, recounting the story of the Christmas when their newly widowed mother lost her mind. I didn’t want them to have to waste their money paying a therapist to recount that story. I was sure they’d have better and more damaging stories to spend their money relaying to some therapist someday. I mean, I hadn’t even started dating in earnest yet. That would certainly give them enough material.

I went over to the stereo, ripped out Bing Crosby…and popped in a CD entitled “Salsa Around the World.” It was upbeat, fun, made you want to dance…and, best of all, it had absolutely no connection to Christmas…or to Drew.

A new family tradition was born.

Now, every holiday season, along with the usual Christmas music…we play the salsa CD. In true New England, Norman Rockwell-esque fashion, we decorate the tree while listening to “Salsa Around the World.” This coming year, I plan on having a party…and playing salsa music…and serving margaritas and Cuervo Gold…and maybe burritos with mole’ sauce.

Decorating the tree has taken on a whole new slant. It’s fun. it’s new…it’s OUR tradition. Drew is not connected to it, which makes it easier not to cry. That’s important, when you are trying to move on. Celebrate the past…and think of it fondly…but move on. Maybe this year I’ll make cookies shaped like jalapeño peppers. Okay…well, I still cry. But, knowing Drew would have loved it…that he would have been dancing around the tree along with me…wearing a sombrero and sipping eggnog, laced with tequila…well, that’s enough to help me make it through yet another holiday season.

© 2007 Sandi Amorello/Silver Crayon Studios, Inc. All rights reserved.
The Irreverent Widow, Silver Crayon Studios and the SC Studios mark are all trademarks of Silver Crayon Studios, Inc.