Christmas had always been a special time for my family, and without dad it was going to be different from those we had enjoyed in the past. In previous years, Dad had conducted the Christmas Day service at Paget Farm, then returned home to Friendship for breakfast. My parents would then collect Vanessa and Rachel for the service in Port Elizabeth; Father Adams went to Mustique each year to conduct Christmas services for the wealthy home-owners, and my dad filled in for him at St. Mary’s. I would stay home to stuff the Christmas turkey and peel vegetables, then feed everyone lunch when they returned from church. Once the turkey was in the oven we headed for the beach, where we spent a carefree afternoon by the sea. That evening we would sit down to a Christmas feast with all the trimmings, something the entire family looked forward to.
Mac and Dad died on November 21st, just a month before Christmas, and I knew the holiday season was going to be difficult. Difficult for me, certainly hard for the children, and downright horrible for my mother. Mom was living at our house, and although she put on a brave face her grief was overwhelming. My parents had been very close, so close that whenever you saw one you automatically looked for the other, and she was somewhat lost without dad. Christmas was going to be dismal, and I was NOT looking forward to it!
My friends, realizing that it would be a somber time at Belmont House, decided to take matters into their own hands and bring Christmas to us. They had obviously talked amongst themselves, and had reached the conclusion that filling the house with food and friendship would help make Christmas more bearable for my family. I admit that I was a bit taken aback by this plan, I didn’t think I had it in me to play hostess when I would prefer to spend the day quietly, but was given little choice in the matter!
That Christmas Day there was no Church, and I had not bothered to decorate the house. I was bone-weary, the Pizzeria had been a zoo the night before, and all I really wanted to do was NOTHING, absolutely nothing. However, we had to have SOME semblance of normalcy, so I got up, made breakfast, then sat on the porch to open gifts. I had bought presents for Mom, Vanessa and Rachel while in London, I doubt there would have been any gifts from me that year otherwise! Mom had also brought presents from Canada, leaving those for Mac and Dad at her house, and the tears didn’t start until the girls presented me with an antique jewelry box Mac had bought for me while away at flying school; he had asked Vanessa and Rachel to hide it so it would be a surprise for me on Christmas day, and a surprise it was! Needless to say, I cried.
Frankie arrived with his truck, and unloaded the tables and chairs I had asked him to bring from the Pizzeria; with a sizeable crowd coming for supper I needed to set a very long table, and Frankie had kindly agreed to help. I then realized that I needed plates, more glasses, cutlery, beer and wine, and made a few trips between the car and restaurant until I had what I needed. I suppose the activity was good for me, better than for sure than moping, but I really wished I could just go to bed and sleep!
My friends arrived bearing the food they had cooked, and it was enough to feed an army! I’m afraid the turkey was WAY overcooked, so much so that when my mother tried to make gravy there wasn’t much to work with. She cried over that gravy, which made me cry too, but we hid our tears well. People would simply have to live without gravy that year!
It was nice of my friends to force me into “doing” Christmas, and it DID cheer me up. The same friends came the following year, and the year after that as well, but on those occasions gravy was featured, because I made sure that I did all the cooking!