. . . and a Christmas Story

The longer I live the more I realize how different we are as humans. What matters to one is barely a blip on the radar screen to another. What one treasures can be opposite of what another would give their life to protect.

My entire life, as long as I can remember, the adults modeled through their words, stories, and actions that those who leave us through death are near. Sometimes they feel closer to us than they were in life.

I’m reminded of a time when our family was at Holy Cross for the funeral of our Uncle Ed. While there, Auntie suggested that we take flowers to the graves of our other family. When I told Dan what we were doing he said he’d like to go with us.

It did not occur to me to explain what he was getting into, and, not having had this tradition in his background, it did not occur to him to ask.

What followed was a treasure hunt among the graves. We walked far and wide, reading the gravestones and making random remarks about our location memories and about landmarks. “Wasn’t Clarence over by the statue of Mary?” or “I thought Grandma was in the Holy Rosary section.”

Two hours later my beloved said, “Remind me never to go with you again.”

WE WHO GRIEVE DO IT OUR OWN WAY

The customs, rituals, and beliefs of grieving people are as varied as the personalities and attributes of our beloved dead. The ways grieving widows or widowers perceive their beloved vary so greatly that sometimes we might doubt “our” way since there are so many ways. In my case, I know that I can only be myself and as a Flores woman in my core, I am comfortable with the fact that we keep our dead people very close.

This has flowed over to our children. Each one keeps their eyes open for signs of their dad in daily life. It’s just our way.

Hence the conversation on Christmas day about “hunders.”

Dan Neff loved to carry hundred dollar bills in his wallet just in case he needed cash, or just in case someone needed him to save the day. Like the time someone’s name got lost in the shuffle for the Christmas exchange and no one knew until that morning that there were no presents for that person. Dan Neff pulled out a hunder and saved the day. This memory came up because a version of it happened again this year! The conversation was one of those “well, if Dad were here . . .”

Little did they know that mom was packing six bills in her purse in that exact moment.

MOM, TOO, WAS THINKING ABOUT “HUNDERS” AT CHRISTMAS

Today’s Christmas story started when a windfall of paydays came to Widow Neff’s home. Just weeks before it was slim pickings.

I used to tell my husband that I should get paid for my ideas, since I have really great ones! So, of course, when I hatched the idea of giving each of our kiddos a hunder, and each of the grandkids a fifty, I was all in.

But with widowhood also comes doubt—sometimes great doubt—and my belief in my “great idea” waned. After picking up the cash, I decided to re-deposit it and leave the hunders to Dan, whatever that may look like.

Little did I know . . .

Chasing another idea, on the day after Christmas, I went to Smart ‘n Final to get jars to finish my “neighbor gifts”: mixed nuts in the shell with individually wrapped Andes chocolate and peppermint. I grabbed my large wallet, with the strap handle, and with keys and phone in my pocket I got right to work.

Upon arriving home, I felt proud of my efforts and began futzing around the house when the doorbell rang.

I wrangled my dog and opened the door to find a GIANT of a man holding my driver’s license.

“Kathleen Neff? Are you missing something?”

A panic rose in me as I realized that I left my wallet…my wallet with the hunders!….in the cart that I carefully parked in the outdoor basket corral at Smart ‘n Final!

The shock that I was completely unaware that I left my wallet in the cart made me question my sanity in that moment. How could I be so mindless?

The second thought was: The Hunders! I never have cash in my wallet, much less hundred dollar bills.

“Don’t worry. Your money is there,” the stranger said.

I mumbled a thank you and went to the kitchen to explore the contents and sure enough….all six hunders, plus credit cards, were intact.

Instinctively, I grabbed a hunder and ran out the front door. “Excuse me sir!” I yelled.

He stopped his rusty van and rolled down the window. Speaking very slowly, as if someone was holding a gun to his head, he said, “now ma’m, hold on.”

He reached into his pocket and showed me (wait for it….) a hunder! Folded in half and wrapped in a grocery receipt from Smart ‘n Final.

“We have money, too. Please don’t offer me a reward. Have a Merry Christmas!”

THE MYSTERIES OF LIFE-DEATH-LIFE

Something died in me in that moment and something was born as well.

I am a widow.

I am grieving the loss of my beloved with whom I spent more of my life than any other person known to me.

I am learning to live on my own.

AND

I am not alone.