How My Family Stole the Christmas

For most, Christmas is the happiest and the most celebrated season of the year. It's a time for merry making, a venue for family reunions, reconciliation and healing wounds. It's a moment where we try to be the kindest, the most loving, the most forgiving and the most generous person we could ever be. It's a moment where we trace our roots to reflect on the true meaning of the Savior's birth and present ourselves in the humblest way we can.

Christmas has become more than just a tradition but a way of life celebrated in the most special ways. Bright lights adorn houses, joyous music fills the air and the cold weather allows us to put on our best clothes. On that day before that truly special day, we welcome the dawn in festive mood for the year's grandest dinner. And on that one awaited moment, everyone is inviting, everyone is embracing, everyone is rejoicing, everyone is giving gifts and everyone is nice to one another. It is when we try to forget who we are and be just grateful for that gift that could never be equaled by no amount of material wealth.

THAT WAS CHRISTMAS.

This time, I celebrated Christmas miles away from home, in a place where I am not supposed to be, in an island where Christmas isn't a holiday. There could not be any saddest moment than that day. It's the day I felt that world has turned its back on me. I was situated far from what I used to have. Bare of all the lights, the music, the people that I love, friends, fun and food. I was on an island - remote, deserted, barren, ultra conservative and lacking in modernity.

With strangers room mates who have become my friends, the most we can extract from our isolation and anonymity was to get together and feel a family out of home. It was cold and knowing we are distant from our loved ones has made the cold excruciating deep to the bones. It was coldness that chilled the soul and our hearts. So cold you would just want to lay down in bed and dream of your most memorable Christmas under the thick blanket. With each other's sad and sob stories, we knew we were not alone and we were not doing a meaningless exile. We are here because of them and enough it is, for us to sacrifice and die for.

The day before Christmas, we tried to embody the spirit amidst depressing times. We made contributions, went to the market and fetch some stuff to cook. It's the humblest dinner one could ever prepare. No gas range, no utensils, no spices, just salt and pepper. Kinda reminiscent of the way the child was born, simple and unadorned, true and uncomplicated. It was celebration and reflections in its deepest meaning I suppose, trying to find a purpose without the glitter, the glamour and the grand attractions. It was essentially a sacrifice. getting through something knowing some people would be saved and benefited.

While half the world was together with their families attending the Misa de Gallo and sharing the Noche Buena right after, we spent the same night wishing we were also there with our loved ones. That's the least we could do but not the least we could get. A call or a short text message from our loved ones would have been enough to ignite a warm spark on our frozen hearts. The simple thought that they were also thinking of us would have been enough to make up for all our misses. I have waited. But to no avail. It was Christmas. It was heart breaking, so terribly heart wrenching.

In time that I was so alone and miles away from the only family I know, they made me felt that I actually was. I could not think of reasons. Suddenly, my soul crushed down to my feet trying to grip a faith to hold on. How could they have left me so down and so dead? Midnight fell with dried tears in my eyes still hoping that the next day would be it.

Sadly, the 25th of December folded up with me stranded in this little island, with no calls, not a single text or a short email message from my family to greet me a merry Christmas though I could never really have. Truly, it was the saddest Christmas I have ever had.