A Christmas Door Closes

On a recent trip back to Old Home and The Ranch, my sister and I were carrying on what has become our normal series of various conversational topics to catch up on events since my last visit back.  This time, as we were chatting about this and that - our standard conversation always starts, of course, with "How are TB The Elder and Mom?" followed by "What escapades has the insurance company tried this time?" - when she mentioned in passing that she and her family would be spending Christmas abroad this year.

Ah, I thought to myself. That was the end.

Certainly we have not always spent Christmas together once we relocated and so this is not the first time this would have happened - we were back (overall) more often than not, but not always, flight costs being what they were and spending two long days (or three reasonable days) driving out each way essentially consumed a week of whatever break we had.  And even last Christmas was not like it had been in years past:  looming over everything was the downtick in my Father's health that was leading where I think we all knew it what leading and due to The Plague, there was no larger family gathering for Christmas brunch (honestly, it was the reason that I insisted we come out here, even though it was not for long and not at all like Christmas' past.  Even I sensed it was going to be the last one of its kind).

Still, the words of my sister put a certain finality on things - not that I blame them of course:  there is not real reason to not go out and do something with her family.  My parents will literally not know the difference.  And we were already effectively planning to stay at New Home this Christmas for effectively the same reason (and, frankly, the fact that boarding animals becomes its own form of airline ticket itself).  

Still, it was door closing to the past, a door that I will not see opened in that fashion in my lifetime.

If I really wanted to look at it, Christmas 2019 was the last time we were all together as a larger family unit.  Aunt J was still alive and we had Christmas Brunch at my Aunt and Uncle's (who currently live in the original Ranch house) in the morning as we had done for years after opening presents at my parents and waiting for my sister's family to come up.  My father was still of sound mind and my mother's memory was better than what it had become.   All of us were together except for one of my cousins who live in The Very Big City and who never comes out to visit.  That I recall, it was a very ordinary Christmas brunch, the kind we had enjoyed for years.

How surprising - and in a meaningful way, how full of pathos - to realize that it was the last one of its kind.

I will be out for my once a month visit in December as I have been for over a year now and I am sure I will see my parents.  Their living space will probably be decorated for Christmas.  And I will stop by and see my Aunt and Uncle and certainly see my sister and brother in law, and perhaps exchange gifts to be ported back. And come Christmas Day, we will all text each other seasonal greetings and such as this is the way things are done now.

Even with all of the realization that time does indeed move on, I must confess I am a little bereft.  Reality comes at us more quickly than we can imagine.