Christmas carol
Warning: mournful post ahead.
Tonight after dinner, my mom played some Christmas carols on the piano as my kids read the new books I bought them at their school book fair. My husband read too, flipping through the picture books when the kids were finished. It was pretty idyllic, just what you might hope for when imagining yourself with family. We’ve had a hectic week, even more than usual, and we all needed the break from the activities that keep us all on the run and sleep deprived all of the time.
My mom started to play “Good King Wenceslas,” and my son crawled into my lap to go to sleep. And I felt like I was going to cry. I remembered how, as a child, that Christmas carol always made me a little sad. As a child, Christmas was filled with simple pleasures — my grandfather had a farm in Wisconsin filled with evergreens and baked enough Swedish cookies to feed an army.
“Good King Weneslas” tells of a poor, cold peasant helped by a kindly king, a good Christmas message. Thank God for that good king! I probably thought.
My father died, most likely on Christmas Day, 11 years ago in Taiwan. He had spent many years as a near-transient, probably living in a boarding house in Chicago. One of the last times I saw him was on Christmas in 1996. He stood in subzero temperatures outside of my mother’s house in Wisconsin and hopped up and down to stay warm while he waited for me to open the door. When he came indoors, I could see that he wasn’t dressed warmly enough, despite all of his layers. He was most likely a paranoid schizophrenic, and he wore several shirts and a sport jacket with money and papers sewn into his pockets. He didn’t stay long, and then he headed out into the cold again to catch a bus back to Chicago.
I’m heading to the Christmas season again, and it’s been a number of years. But I realize that the death of a parent, or any loved one, at the holidays leaves an emotional residue that may never go away.
For several years I’ve been trying to write a book called “The Rag and Bone Man” about what it was like to grow up with a irrational, violent, but loving man as my father. It’s been hard to go there willingly, and while I have been busy with work and family, I have used every excuse not to write the book. This year I decided that I didn’t care who, if anyone, ended up reading it, or if it sat forever as a manuscript in a drawer, as long as it was finished. I just needed to write it, in order to be free to write other stories. And then, after making that resolution, I sat on it again.
I am a virtuoso procrastinator.
And moments like tonight happen, I know that I have to finish the book, for its own sake, to honor my father and the child that I was, and to move on.
13 Comments
jennifer
December 10, 2011Please write the book! I already want to read it.
susansheu
December 10, 2011Thank you – I will do my best to crank some more out before Chinese New Year!
joni
December 14, 2011I have some good memories of your father. Unfortunately I only got to see him a few times. Yes, please write the book! I definitely want to read it.
Susan
December 15, 2011Thank you, Joni. He loved and admired your family a lot!
Sandra
December 14, 2011I’ll read it.
Susan
December 15, 2011Thanks, Sandra. I would be honored if you read it.
katherine
December 14, 2011You are an inspiration. I know you and I know you can do it. It’s hard as hell. But when it’s done it will be so good. Perhaps we can encourage/inspire each other. xo
Susan
December 15, 2011Thank you, Katherine! I need discrete goals to get through any big project like this. I have lots of pages but will probably rewrite it all. Let’s keep in touch about our writing for sure. xo
Miriam
December 31, 2011You can do it Susan!!!
And the best reason, “in order to be free to write other stories.” It’s so freeing, that’s the beauty of completing stuff. In my case I had to get a coauthor to unblock me, but we’re finally writing the conclusion. The trouble is it becomes The Book instead of the book. One wants it to be Perfect and Amazing. Don’t rewrite the pages. Keep them, they are probably good pages. xxx M
Traci Swartz
February 23, 2012You’re a great writer, Susan. I’ve only just read a few of these posts, but the voice is clear. And I’d drop everything to read the full story of you and your Dad, it’s so compelling. Write this book!! (I am procrastinating writing my comedy set for tomorrow by reading your blog, btw. Someone from the Academy of Virtuosic Procrastinators has to be the first one to move forward!! I pick you first!)
Susan
February 23, 2012thanks very much! I’ve just had the worst “writing” day, and it’s good to read something encouraging!
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