Single Again at Christmas

Single Again at Christmas

Last Christmas, I was a married woman looking forward to celebrating with my husband of thirty years and our three adult children. Preparations were underway: the six-foot fir tree was in pride of place in the lounge room, waiting for its decorations. Boxes of carefully packed, precious ornaments were on the dining room table. Some of the tree decorations and nick knacks had been passed down from my grandmother and mother. There was a delicate etched glass bell, six crystal icicle tree decorations and the two Victorian era cardboard Santa Clauses on stands.

I smiled to myself as I reminisced about decorating the family Christmas tree as a young girl with my mother. She would recount the stories of how each piece had come into the family’s possession as we decided where to hang it. Finally, she let me climb the step ladder to place the angel on top of the tree.

As a mother myself, I included my children in the Christmas tree decoration custom. Every year, my husband would take them to buy the tree. They would be full of excitement and giggles as it was brought into the house and erected in the corner of the lounge room. As they grew older, they were allowed to hang some of the more delicate decorations and the angel.

Decorating the tree and placing treasured nick knacks around the room took me a couple of hours but it was a labor of love. I stood back and was pleased with my work. The room looked like those featured in House and Garden magazine.

Christmas day began in the usual way. My husband fired up the kettle barbeque to cook the meat while I started on the salads. Our two daughters, our son and their partners were due at eleven o’clock and we were looking forward to their company. Since our children had left home a few years before, Steve and I had settled into the empty nester phase of our lives. As I watched Steve through the kitchen window supervising the meat cooking with a beer in one hand, I felt content.

Like any marriage, ours had had its challenges. We had gone through a rocky patch just after our youngest child left home. Counselling had helped us get back on track, fortunately. We both realized that our marriage was too important to throw it all away because of one indiscretion on his part.

Once the salads were prepared and the meat was cooking away, Steve and I sat down to exchange our gifts. This was another of our traditions: exchanging gifts in private before the children took over the day. In hindsight, Steve’s gift to me should have raised a red flag, but it didn’t.

Steve loved to surprise people, so had disguised my gift in a bigger box. It was professionally wrapped in expensive paper with a bow on top. When I opened it, there was another box inside, lined with red velvet. Nestled in the red velvet was an exquisite pearl and diamond eternity ring. I burst into tears as Steve slid it onto my ring finger. It fit perfectly. ‘Wait ‘til I show the kids’, I said as he leant into kiss me. ‘I’m glad you like it’, he replied with a smile.

Our, private moment was shattered by the arrival of our older daughter and her partner. They laughed as they hugged each of us before going into the lounge room to place their presents under the tree. ‘You’ve outdone yourself this year, Mum!’, my daughter Laura said. ‘The tree looks amazing’.

 ‘Thank you, darling’, I replied.

Shortly, the other two arrived with their partners. After hugs and ‘Merry Christmas’ all round, it was time to head inside to open presents. As I handed a gift to my younger daughter, Jessica, she noticed my new ring. ‘Is that new Mum? It’s gorgeous.’ So, of course, I had to show it off to everyone. Soon, all that was left of the pile of presents under the tree was wrapping paper and packaging. It was time for lunch.

My daughters helped me set the table and put out the salads while the men dealt with the meat. Everyone was relaxed and looking forward to a long lunch. The table was groaning under the weight of all the food. Christmas crackers were pulled, paper hats donned, and corny jokes read out before we started to eat.

I can see it all so clearly in my mind. My heart aches realizing that there will never be another Christmas like it. The customs have gone. The family has fractured, no longer happy like we were that Christmas day.

After the meal was devoured and the dishes cleared away, we settled down for a Christmas movie, another family tradition. Sprawled on couches, some of us fell asleep including me. Suddenly, I woke to the sound of a car starting up and reversing down the driveway.

Feeling uneasy, I went out the front door to see what was going on. ‘Maybe it was one of the neighbors’, I wondered aloud. I walked around to the garage to see the door open and Steve’s car missing. My gut instinct was telling me something was amiss.

Back inside the house, I called Steve’s mobile. He didn’t answer. ‘Where are you? I texted. By then, the movie was over so I asked in the most upbeat voice I could manage, ‘coffee, anyone?’

‘I’ll help you, Mum’, offered Laura. Once in the kitchen, she looked me in the eye and asked, ‘Are you alright?’

‘Not really’, I admitted quietly. ‘Your father left while we were asleep. I called his mobile, but he didn’t answer.’

I could tell Laura was shocked. ‘I don’t understand. It’s not like Dad to sneak out like that.’ 

My younger two children had to leave even though their dad hadn’t returned or messaged me. They could see I was worried. They were puzzled too by their father’s behavior. Laura and I helped them out to the car with their gifts and some left-over food and waved them off.

As time wore on without any word or sighting of Steve, my concern turned to anger. Eventually, his car turned into the driveway and proceeded to the garage. My daughter put her hand on my arm to prevent me jumping up to confront him. ‘Breathe, Mum. Let him come to you.’  Steve walked out to the patio and greeted us with a casual, nonchalant ‘hey everyone.’

I was infuriated and wasn’t buying the laid-back demeanor. My husband was hiding something. ‘Where did you go? I demanded, my voice shaking with hurt and anger.

‘I went for a drive to the beach. I needed some fresh air’ he replied as if there was nothing untoward going on.

‘You could have left me a note or texted me back. It’s Christmas day, after all.’ With that, I burst into tears and ran inside. I threw myself on our bed and sobbed into my pillow. Kind Laura popped her head around the bedroom door and came to give me a hug. ‘Michael and I are going now, Mum. Are you going to be okay?

‘Yes darling. Go and enjoy the rest of your Christmas day’, I reassured her. She could tell I had been crying but tactfully didn’t mention it.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow, Mum. Don’t worry, it will be alright.’

My marriage ended that Christmas day, this time for good. Steve admitted that he had rekindled his affair. Hurt and disgusted, I took off the eternity ring he had given me just a few hours before, returned it to its box. I would never wear it again. It was tainted, like a poison chalice. If I wore it, I would be accepting his cheating behavior.

I slept alone that night. As you can imagine, my sleep was fitful, my mind trying to process what had happened. I wondered if I really knew Steve at all, even after thirty years. The man I thought I knew would never have acted in such a callous, hurtful way.  As dawn broke and light entered my bedroom, I resolved to begin separation proceedings immediately. Steve would never have a chance to betray me again.

One year has passed and my life is very different.  I rent a beautiful inner-city apartment by myself until the divorce is finalized. Gradually, I am working through the aftermath of the separation and getting used to being single again. As Christmas approaches, my mind frequently takes me back to that fateful day and I have mixed emotions. Along with the grief, there’s a burgeoning feeling of contentment.  

Yesterday, while decorating my new Christmas tree, I realized that I have the freedom to create new Christmas traditions. My relationships with my daughters and son have weathered the upheaval of the separation. We will see each other over the Christmas period, although not all altogether like before. They must make time for both their parents who live in different parts of the city. I will not be seeing Steve: it’s still too painful and awkward to be in each other’s presence. That chapter of my life is over.

Christmas will always be a special time of the year for me. This year I will just be doing it in a new way.