Then it happened.
I thought of haunting sentiments uttered by Gore Vidal with regards to the passing of his lifelong partner, Howard Auster. It was something to the effect of "I wish people would stop telling me that time heals. Time doesn't heal; it just reminds you that there is more time to miss the one you love." I almost fell out of bed when I read that. The thought of being alone, the last branch on the tree, is a crushing thought.
So, it was this sentiment that swiftly made me begin to question my vision of Christmas Day chez nous.
How would I feel if relatives who I love and rarely see, told me they would rather stay home and read than spend time with me? While I may have understood, it would probably have felt like an ouch a few hours later. I also switched gears when thinking that there may be a time when there is no one's house to go to for a Christmas celebration, so why not enjoy those we love in the present moment?
I'm not sure there are any ultimately satisfying answers here, but it sure seemed decadent to imagine staying at home and not doing much of anything--except thinking of Gore Vidal's observation, loving my husband as much as possible, and savoring another cup of coffee.
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1 comment:
AV: you already know how very true this is. and yet, sometimes the line between doing the "right thing" for someone else and the right thing for ourselves is so mutable, so permeable. that said, i hope you had a delightful visit to see your family. and that you slept in the next day. me, i hope to never have the same amount of time as vidal. ever.
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