What I'll remember about Christmas 2015

I was prepared for this Christmas to be the worst Christmas ever.  After a fight full of pain and disappointment, my brother lost his battle with stomach/pancreatic cancer and died on December 4. Just the thought of him not being around to eat all the chocolate chip cookies so Helen would have to rush bake another batch was enough to make me cry. I'd catch myself checking the catalogs and thinking something would make a good gift for him; then I'd realize there would be no more gifts. My eyes would fill with tears when I'd pass the men's departments in my favorite stores and remember the bike riding clothes I'd purchased during the past few years. Television commercials where the child came home from college or the mom/dad surprised their families by returning from war would be enough for me to cry all night.  Every day this month was one of anguish.

I fully expected this Christmas would be remembered as one of the worst our family ever experienced. The first Christmas without Uncle.

In truth, we will never forget the Christmas of 2015, but not for the reasons I'd been anticipating.

The weather this season was record breaking. We had a white Christmas after all, but the white was thick, thick fog. We had warm summer rains.  Yes, I said summer.  The windows have been open for days.  We've slept at night with the ceiling fans gently buzzing. We ate Christmas dinner on the deck. I wore shorts and a red T-shirt for Christmas.  Helen was in her flip-flops.  All over Facebook people posted holiday pictures of families in summer clothes. This happened in Maryland and Pennsylvania on December 25.  Never in my lifetime have I experienced such a warm holiday.  Next year as we shiver in typical December weather we will talk about last year when we threatened to turn on the air-conditioning.  Each holiday from now on, we will refer to Christmas 2015 as the warmest winter holiday ever.

Our family will forever remember this Christmas as the year of the turkey.  Our friends, Carol and Vincent, provide the Christmas turkey.  They get big, juicy fresh turkeys. ( A few years ago, the drippings from their turkey, the biggest one Helen had ever cooked, set our oven on fire and we had to call 911.  But that's another story.)  This year, Carol went to the farm, observed the birds doing their free-range thing, then she selected one to join us for the holidays.  She helped the farmer chase and catch the bird.  Once in hand, the farmer took it off to wring its neck and pluck its feathers.  Since the farmers had heavy accents when they said something to Carol about the feet, she didn't understand.  So, like all old people who don't hear well,  she did the shaky smile thing and said yes.

Christmas morning 2015.  Helen is removing the bird from its bag.  I'm typing away on the computer, and I stop when she yells, Oh gross!!!  There, popping out of the bag are two huge white turkey feet. Upon further removal, we realize the turkey head is dangling from the dead turkey neck which is still attached to the dead turkey.  Ew!  Ew! Ew! Poor Helen.  Without a meat cleaver, amputating those turkey parts was slow going.  She's yelping, I'm laughing, the dogs are circling hoping that something will drop to the floor.  What a site!

Christmas 2015 will be, as I fully expected, a Christmas I will never forget.  But, I did not expect to remember it as the Christmas Eve we slept with the windows open.  Or the Christmas Day that Helen had to play pioneer woman in order to prepare our dinner.  Or a Christmas unexpectedly filled with friends and unending laughter.

When we look back on the Christmas of 2015, we may feel tears come to our eyes as we miss Uncle Glenn.  But we'll laugh, uproariously, because we'll never forget the turkey feet, the summer weather, and the friends who enjoyed the holiday with us.  I know Glenn, Mom, and Dad looked down and laughed with us.