I'm sure my readers (at least those in the US) are familiar with the Hallmark commercials. They seem to be more frequent this time of year, playing on our emotions. There's the young lawyer getting the pep talk from the cabbie on her way home. Turns out, the cabbie is her Dad. There's the small boy who is upset that his family had to move. The tree is in the wrong place, it's all just awful. Until they get out the ornaments and he realizes they brought Christmas with them. They are classic Hallmark moments. The moments that tug at your heartstrings and warm you from within. They could probably make Scrooge shed a tear (I'm talking Scrooge pre-celestial visits).
There are other Hallmark Moments. The ones they don't advertise. These are the moments that hit you like a brick wall, catching you as you unsuspectingly browse the aisles in the cheerful Hallmark store. These moments take your breath away. As you stand there gasping for air, emotion washes over you in gigantic waves. You feel like you are drowning, but how can that be? You're hundreds of miles from the nearest ocean. And how is is that you are the only one feeling this? How can the other shoppers laugh at the cards as this is happening? Because this is your own personal Hallmark moment of grief.
I first experienced this three years ago. Grandma Wager died the day after her 91st birthday. Grandma Wager and Grandma Primeau's birthdays were about 3 weeks apart. Normally, I did my card shopping for all fall events in the early fall. For reasons I don't remember, in 2008, I didn't buy all my cards at once. So, I found myself, just a few days after Grandma Wager's passing, standing in the 'Her Birthday' section looking for birthday cards for Grandma Primeau. As I looked at the selection in front of me, my eyes filled with tears. I felt paralyzed. I knew I had to get out of there. I needed to get home, before I made a fool of myself right there in the middle of the store. So I just chose a card. I didn't read it. I knew it had words, and those words included 'Happy Birthday' and 'Grandma'. It was the best I could do.
Fast forward to this year. I stood in Hallmark in early November buying cards for the November and December events. As I ran through the list in my head, I kept thinking I was forgetting something. Laura's birthday, Aunt Vera's birthday, Mom & Dad's anniversary, Christmas. There were more events. Then I remembered. Yes, Grandma Primeau's birthday was in November and Grandma & Grandpa's anniversary was in November. So I wasn't forgetting anything, I just didn't need to buy cards for some things. I handled this one much better than I did the first episode a few years earlier. Maybe it was because I was determined to finish my Christmas shopping that day and still had a few stops to go. But whatever it was, the grief didn't feel so crushing. I just smiled when the saleslady commented on how many cards I was buying. She thought it was for several months, and I told her quietly 'no, this is only through Christmas'. And I thought of the times when I used to buy even more cards this time of year.
I thought maybe I was the only one having problems. After all, I admit, I can be a sap. When my parents were here, we went to the mall together. Mom had to go to Hallmark to pick out ornaments for Sydney and Drew, and needed my help. Dad came in, and Mom told him to pick out a card for them to give to his father for Christmas. Mom and I continued our shopping. Dad walked over and said 'They only have three and I don't like any of them'. His voice was very thick. He walked out of the store. I looked at Mom and we nodded at each other. I said 'Mom, he can't do it.' Dad came back in the store (he probably had walked out to wipe his eyes, he doesn't want to seem weak in front of us), and we took him to the Christmas card section. I showed him that the cards he had looked at were just one part. I walked him around to the big section that had more cards than you could imagine. Dad asked us to help him. He said 'Dad (meaning Grandpa) doesn't like to read a lot on a card.' Then he specified that it had to be appropriate given 'our situation'. That's how he referred to buying a card for his recently widowed father. 'Our situation'. Dad doesn't really use a lot of words to express what he's feeling. So together, Mom, Dad, and I looked at I think every card there in the store. Mom and I were kind of filtering them for Dad. It seemed every word had a double meaning. Anything that spoke of memories could bring up memories of Grandma. Mentioning loved ones could conjure images of Gram. Basically, we wanted a generic Christmas card for my father to give his own father. Not so easy to come by!
We were having so much trouble that the sweet high school boy who worked there kept asking us if he could help us. Finally, I asked him if they had any funny Christmas cards. He gave me an odd look, but sure enough, Hallmark had it. I told him we'd lost my Grandmother this year, and were looking for a card that wouldn't upset Grandpa. We did find an appropriate card, after an extremely long time looking. And then, to lighten the air, we went and played with all the singing Christmas decorations in the store. Yes, we were those annoying people pressing the buttons on everything. I've heard it said that laughter is the best medicine. It certainly was that day!
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