A Letter From My Dad
By: Elan Cassandra
Tags: Life Lessons, This Happened To Me, Christmas, Parenting, Life

A Letter From My Dad

And an amendment to the “magic” of Christmas.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Ever the loyal supporter, my dad has a Medium membership and reads at least most of the articles I publish here. Given the personal nature of what I write, that fact occasionally gives me the slightest bit of pause.

I mean, there are lots of ways it could get uncomfortable.

The best-case awkward scenario is that I completely misremember some childhood event and he calls me out on it. A middling awkward scenario would be that reads more about my love life than would be ideal.

But worse is that he reads about my difficulties, my hurt, either now or in the past, and reads into it some fault of his own.

With all of that said, this week I got a note from my dad, which I’m copying with his permission below.

Dear Daughter, I’ve been thinking about what to give you for Christmas. I read your article on missing the childhood excitement and magic of the holidays and about my promise that you would find it again in the eyes of your own children. Perhaps you will, but that’s not a promise I should have made and now I see a better way to feel the magic. I’ve also read a number of articles that reveal the anger and hurt you still feel over your childhood and especially the relationship with your mother. Maybe I don’t get enough blame or anger directed my way for the follies in your upbringing; but the explanation is as simple as it is complex. Let me explain through my contrarian view of the reason for the season. I was raised in a religious household, and easily embraced Jesus as a role model. Giving came easily to me and I enjoyed the feeling that came from recipients of whatever gifts I delivered, whether it was a smile, or money in a beggar’s cup, or a visit to an elderly relative. In my relationship with your mother, my Jesus complex had free reign — I was able to give, sacrifice of myself and turn the other cheek for too long. I thought it was righteous. This was wrong; sacrifice of oneself is not ideal, it is not right, it should not be emulated. I’m sorry if I taught you to subjugate yourself and your desires for the sake of other people. I’m not alone though, just more proficient in giving myself away than many others. The Christian ethic of self-sacrifice is ubiquitous in Western civilization. The ideal Christian turns the other cheek, loves his enemy, is happy to live with no possessions and ultimately sacrifice their life in return for a mythical, mystical, prudish, spartan after-life that will somehow feel like paradise. Again, this is wrong. I feel it deep in my heart, that if Jesus shared a loving and hopeful message and was not simply a fictional character, that he would feel revulsion at how the Holy Roman Empire twisted his words to suit their political agenda, and horror at how his message of love was turned into one of unnatural and harmful self-denial. Now I see that only by respecting my desires and openly sharing my needs with those close to me is happiness (or much of any emotion) reachable. Surely one result of self-flagellation is desensitization. When one only gives and sacrifices, they harden themselves against the very sharing of love and emotion that is the real power to deeply love in enviable relationships. I confess it still isn’t always easy to express my desires, but I’m working on it and my partner constantly asks me what I want. I am so grateful today that I share my life with someone who won’t let me sacrifice myself, who appreciates and acknowledges every gift I bring and wants to make me feel as loved as I want her to feel. This is the simple joy of giving, the joy of Christmas — one’s gift isn’t taken for granted, nor is it expected or judged, but rather truly appreciated by the recipient for the love that is behind it. And that really is magic! I’m sorry I am too late in learning this lesson to pass it on during your formative years, but here it is: don’t do what Jesus would do if it means crucifying yourself for Old Testament individuals who demand continual sacrifice! Merry Christmas, Love, Dad

Obviously, I’ve read it more than once, and still, I’m crying reading it again.

I’m usually good at feelings — discerning what it is that I’m experiencing and why.

But this is complicated. This is a lot to unpack. Because you see, it’s not just one message.

On one hand, it’s an apology for not doing more. (No apology necessary.) It’s also an explanation for why he didn’t do more — what he sees as his primary mistake over three decades: unhealthy self-sacrifice.

Beyond that, it’s a plea that I don’t repeat this mistake. And I could write a whole other story on that. In fact, I think I will.

But the rest of this letter addresses the magic of Christmas.

That I shouldn’t wait for it to return, as he had once said, in my own children’s joy and excitement. (Those were maybe the words of someone who had given up on his own joy.)

Now, he proposes that the magic of Christmas is actually in giving and knowing that the gift is appreciated because of the love behind it.

And that does sound beautiful. (Although I think I have more work to do when it comes to being able to give a gift to anyone without fear over its reception.)

The thing is though, maybe that’s just the magic of Christmas for him right now. Maybe the magic of Christmas is relative and maybe it changes throughout one’s life.

I held on for a very long time to this idea of Christmas as something that is repeated. You “do” Christmas every year. You do it through traditions. It’s why we have the music and the lights and the tree and so on.

And I — probably many of us — hope to recapture certain feelings by repeating traditions.

But a) it doesn’t really work, and b) traditions inevitably get f*cked up sometimes. I can’t think of a Christmas in the last twenty years that went as planned.

Thinking that Christmas is a singular thing and that this thing somehow repeats on a certain day every year is just a recipe for disappointment.

Because you can’t repeat life. You can’t repeat that one Christmas that happened to feel really magical.

Life changes. It changes from day to day.

And we can bring what traditions we can for the sense of comfort that they often provide. But they aren’t Christmas.

And I’m not sure that giving and receiving that’s backed by love is necessarily Christmas either.

I don’t think the magic of Christmas is actually one feeling. I think it’s subjective.

I think it’s allowed to change.

And really, it probably should change because hopefully, throughout the year that’s passed, we’ve changed too.