All The Little Things

Last night we had our annual family Christmas party, which was combined with a New Year's Eve party this year. Most of the usual suspects attended, and I sincerely hope that everyone had a great time. I know that even amongst the cleaning and hostessing, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. We gathered, nibbled, and mingled until Santa's arrival around 8. Then we opened presents, ate and drank some more before the band began their time in the light, from 9-12. It just wouldn't be a Sheehan Family party without at least one game of "Tonk," in tribute to my late Aunt Nora as well.

There were lots of kids, as usual, and they were fantastic! Everyone played wonderfully together, and all of them, even Andrew, managed to stay up to watch the ball drop at midnight! Most of the crowd thinned out considerably after 12, but a few lingered on. When it was all said and done, Greg and I finally hit the pillows around 330. Greg, having "party" tattooed on his DNA, couldn't just fall asleep like any normal person, though. He talked, and talked for at least another half an hour after we got into bed. I think my lack of responsiveness finally struck him as one huge hint, and I dare to say we fell asleep around 4 this morning. It's just not in my make-up to sleep in, so even with only 2.5 hours of sleep under my belt, here I sit at 7 this morning, after putting dishes away and doing a load of laundry, writing a blog entry.


I think you all know how it is with me at this point. If something is on my mind, I need to share it. Well, something is on my mind.


Last night, like at every other Christmas party we have had, there was a big struggle to find someone to play Santa. Actually, I was considering my approach for certain people days before the party even took place, that's how unwilling the men in this family are, with the exception of a few, who either have small children (and could risk being recognized) or have already played Santa several times. I probably asked 10 different people, even women! At one point, I said, "How about Nick?" (my very thin and practically bald teenage cousin). "No," my mom said, "He just had shoulder surgery. He can't be lifting and handing out presents." OK...."How about Kirk," I said. "No," Mom said again. "He just had prostate surgery. He can't be lifting either." OK...then, what's a girl to do???? I asked around some more. No takers. Finally, I thought, "the bag isn't that heavy. He can have a helper. I'm asking Kirk."


The conversation went something like this:

"Kirk, would you play Santa?"

"Sure."

Me, in total disbelief: "Really? You will?"

"Yes, I'll do it."

"Really? Yes? Just like that?"

"I'm a changed man, Koelle. I'll play Santa."

"You're my hero!"


And so, Kirk played Santa. Just like that. No haggling, no cajoling. I think he was one of the best Santa's we have ever had. He took his time handing out each and every gift, talking to each recipient, even the adults, and truly put his heart into that role for half an hour.


Now, a little background information, for those of you who are not family. Kirk was diagnosed with prostate cancer earlier in the year. He was treated and the surgery/treatment was successful; however, he developed a pulmonary embolism as a post-op complication and nearly died. Kirk lived through a frightening experience I can only imagine, but he came out of it with a new lease on life, an appreciation for all the blessings that surround him, and an eagerness to soak up life's richness.


Later in the evening, I sat for a little while and talked with Kirk. We joked about him writing out specific instructions for his obituary, viewing, funeral, and burial before his prostate surgery, but we also talked about living each day to the fullest. Of course, our entire family has that sarcastic sense of humor ingrained within our genes, so we jested about dying too. Why not! In all seriousness, however, I sincerely believe that we should try to embrace each day, because whether we are sick, healthy, cautious or reckless, any moment could be our last. Each time we walk out the front door, each time we kiss goodbye, we have faith that we will see each other again, but there is no guarantee. Kirk has the right idea - take it all in, don't let life pass you by, even if that means dressing up in a Santa suit and sweating under a synthetic beard in front of a room full of eager eyes. I think that for me, the look of pure adoration in Andrew's eyes as he awaited his gifts would have been a tremendous payment for that Christmas spirit.


Last night I found myself choking back tears at several points. When I was singing with the band, Andrew and Freddie were playing their guitars together. I saw my dad snapping photos of Andrew and mouthing the words to the song I sang. His health is good right now, and we pray every day that it continues to be good, but we don't know how time will play out, how long his health will hold, how much time my kids have left with a strong and able Pap. I try not to think often of when or how his illness will progress. It upsets me very much. Instead, I find myself trying to emblazon memories in my brain, brand moments like last night's into my personal storage bank, to be summoned at will as time goes by.


I looked at my grandfather and his wife together on the couch. How they have aged! My grandfather was very unsteady going up and down our front porch steps, and he barely moved from his seat throughout the party. He's a survivor too, a fighter through and through, but how much time do we have left with him? Of course, in his presence is the eternal absence of my grandmother, taken so young at 58. There isn't always time after retirement to enjoy life's luxuries. It's important to make the time, to find enjoyment and relish the little things. What I wouldn't give just to sit and have a coffee with her, have just one hug, wish her Happy New Year.


When my mother was leaving for the night she hugged me and said, "I love you." While I know without a doubt that my mother loves me, these are not words she utters often. In the last 10 years, as I entered and became comfortable with adulthood, my relationship with my mother evolved. She is no longer an authority figure, but rather a cherished friend, my confidant, my advisor. She is my children's grandmother, and what a wonderful grandmother she is! Her love, like my own grandmother's, is one that we are not only lucky to have, but one that we absolutely need in our lives.


When we were waiting for the ball to drop, all of us lined up, sitting or standing in the living room, I overheard someone say, "Oh my! There's a lot of us!" Yes, there were a lot of us, and that's the way it should be: family gathered together to bring in the new year. Honestly, though, it should be like that more often. It should be family together all year long, as often as possible, because despite our differences, we are just that - family. From Freddie, the guitar player (and soap connoisseur) to my Aunt Kathy and her wonderful appetizers, each and every person in our home last night (and also those who were unable to make it) means the world to us. It is, in fact, those subtle (or not) differences that give our relationships such depth. It's Ed repeating the same stories over and over. It's Rob's little instruction guides to various topics. It's Karissa's singing and Brooke's imitations of Greg and Fred's nonsense talk. It's Jacob's obsession with Legos, Andrew's obsession with music, and my dad's obsession with napping. It's games of Tonk, Christmas dinners, family picnics, band practices, recollections of times gone by, sharing the common threads that tie us together over decades.


I don't make new years resolutions, because I firmly believe that we should try our hardest to be our best all year long. Life is a series of tweaks, personal adjustments to better ourselves, an ongoing, life-long process. However, as I look forward into 2011, these are the augmentations I intend to make: to look more closely, to breathe deeper, to talk slower and listen more actively, and above all to appreciate each of the small blessings God has sent my way.


"Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you will look back and realize they were the big things." - Robert Brault.

I don't have to look back. I already know.