The “B” Word

At the end of December I sent a letter to the Big Man. I was hoping for an answer but you know how it is — crickets. Maybe he has an anal retentive elf at the front desk who screens all the mail or the weight and stress finally led to a cardiac event or he’s taken off to the Cayman Islands. I doubt he reads this blog but what the hell, here’s the letter. Feel free to share with others. Maybe he follows you on Twitter.

Dear Santa,

Well, it’s over. Your holiday came and went like it does every year, except it’s 2020. The worst year ever. The year we can’t wait to end. The year that Christmas was masked and narrow and virtual and challenging – like everything else this year. But expectations were still high and to be blunt, your involvement didn’t help.

Santa, in my opinion, you need to evaluate a few things, reconsider what you’re doing for a living. Yes, this is a personal matter. I know I have changed in ways I never could have predicted, but the world has changed too. I think it’s time for a come to Jesus moment, so to speak.

First, let’s talk about the “B” word. It’s everywhere, Santa. On mugs, cards, oven mitts, ornaments, t-shirts, gift cards, and those plush winter throws people buy every year even though they already have too many of them.

“Believe.“

That’s right. Your holiday tag line. Believe. No further instructions. Like who to believe in (you, Jesus, Rudolph, the person we married?) or what to believe in (the magic of Christmas, the birth of God’s only son, Amazon, kindness, greed?). And after the year most of us experienced, Believe is, well, harder to believe in.

During a FaceTime call yesterday I asked my 8 year-old niece what Santa brought her and she told me she was “on to the jig.” She said the presents come from mom and dad and rolled her eyes like a teenager. She talked primarily about video games and said her house is turning into a nightmare. Why? Because it’s become both home and school. Because she can’t go anywhere else. Because her world is small and void of friends and experiences.

I think the real nightmare, for my niece, for me, for all of us, is Loss. Loss could have been your tag line this year. We can’t go places that help shape who we are and keep us sane. We can’t meet new people or visit with friends and family. We can’t touch people, hug them, feel their breath on our shoulders, smell their smell.

And then there’s death. The pandemic’s victims, almost 2 million world-wide and 336,339 as of today in the United States, where I live. Not to mention the usual suspects – cancer, heart failure, violence. Taking our loved ones in the midst of the chaos, making it harder to come together, to pay our respect, to mourn.

What I’ve come to believe in is Loss. It is seeping into our skin, flowing through our veins, burrowing in our bones. We are changing, and maybe you should too. Next year give us a break from the tinsel and glitter and hype. Slow it down, use a few less reindeer, stop hanging out on every corner and at every supermarket. We need a holiday that doesn’t add to our sense of inadequacy, powerlessness, indifference, and greed. We need a different kind of magic, Santa. Do you think you can deliver?

Sincerely, ME

I know it’s kind of late to post this but I figure we can apply the sentiment to other holidays and events and even to our big ideas about who we should be and what we should have. Besides, that damn Leprechaun is on his way and then the Bunny and there’s weddings and birthdays and weekends and mornings…Loss is with us just about everywhere. I’m staying quiet, going deeper, paring down. How about you? How are you facing the Loss?