12.15.01-1:18 p.m.>

Every Christmas I take the time, perhaps too much time, to reflect upon the year that has passed me by, and the year before it, and perhaps some years preceding that one as well.

I think about the holiday, and my conflicted upbringing. Living in the house of an old Jewish woman(My Nana) for close to ten years and celebrating Christmas. I try to remember that one time when we were all happy. When everything was wonderful and there was still some sugar left in this holiday season we rush so maniacally through.

But the fact of the matter is its all bits and peices. Someones always saying/doing something that makes someone angry. Or my dad's out of work, or the car needs fixing, or someone is sick, or the money is tight, and it has been for years. Please dont spend your money on me, I really dont deserve it. Really. Im an ungrateful,cynical,little mess of a girl. I am not worth it.

I can remember the Christmas I got Little Miss Makeup, and the Christmas we got NES, and the Christmas we got Super NES, and the Christmas I got Beauregarde,quite possibly the present I've gotten the MOST use out of. I can remember the year we tried to bake cookies,how we didnt have a rolling pin, so my dad used a beer can. I can remember countless searches for the perfect tree. Smiling into videocameras, holding my little cousins when they were even littler. Big Breakfasts on Christmas Morning,How my aunts and uncles would stop by when I was reallllly little and say "Oh Melissa look what Santa left for you at our house !". I remember wondering why Santa used the same wrapping paper as my mother, but never ever doubting Santas existence till the year we went to visit the family in Florida and my redneck cousins ruined it all with one crushing sentence.

Then celebrations came to a screeching halt....

The year I was 12, we got a call on Christmas Eve. It was about 3:30, my brother and I had just sat down to watch The Animaniacs Christmas Special.I remember the phone ringing and I remember my mother screaming. My Godfather, My uncle Mike, had died in a horrible elevator accident. The night of the 23rd my aunt and uncle were supposed to pickup their new Minivan. His daughters were 4 and 2 at the time. Well he never came home and my aunt started to worry, she made a few phone calls and the rest as they say is history, written in the books. Parts of me wonder if he suffered at the bottom of the Elevator Shaft,parts of me hope that the fall killed him instantly. The night before his wake I had this dream about him. We were in my Aunts house and he was wearing this snazzy gray suit and this striped tie and he was surrounded by this white light. We were talking and he was telling me that I shouldnt worry or be sad because he was ok, and that he wasnt suffering. I just remember feeling so warm and comforted,it really really helped me. As crazy as it sounds. It did.

Anyhow,now you know my family history. In case you were dying for the info. It felt really good to write that in any case. We never talk about those types of things. Just kinda avoid eye contact and mope collectively around the holidays.

I miss my uncle. I wouldve liked to get to know him as a person. As opposed to a name inside a birthday card. Theres this picture of him that sits on top of our television. And he's waving to the camera. Everytime I find myself thinking about him, I pick it up and wave right back.

I hate to be all sappy.

but yea.