Dear Diary, It's the Best Time of the Year?

Christmas has ALWAYS been one of my favorite holidays. Something about the chaos of this time of year excites me. I have always loved decorating my house with all the lights and garland that my heart desires. Baking new desserts for Christmas get-togethers makes me, and my stomach, very happy (my waistline may feel differently). I consider it a stress relief to start up a fire, sit down, and wrap presents for friends and family. Being able to spend extra time with the ones I love most, fills my heart with joy. Everything about this time of year leaves me feeling grateful for all the good things the year has brought me and I love all the traditions I’ve built over the years.

One of my favorite Christmas traditions includes my Chi-Chi (my grandfather). Every year since I can remember, we’d go over to my Grammie and Chi-Chi’s on Christmas Day. Any gathering that includes all the Ricans should be recorded for reality TV gold, because we’re never short on good food, cold bevs, and endless laughs and love. Again, the Rican family is H U G E. My grandparents created 13 beautiful children that have gifted them 20+ grandkids, and multiple great grandkids. The thought of each person trying to gift everyone in our family with a Christmas present is absolutely insane (inevitably, someone would surely forget someone else). So, we have always kept it pretty simple in the sense that Grammie and Chi-Chi would receive gifts from all the kids/grandkids, and in return they’d get us a little something. Imagine them trying to come up with 20+ gift ideas for each grandkid though. So, my Cheech, being the Money Man he was, always gave out a $20 bill in a sweet card to us. Now, he didn’t do this in an ordinary fashion because the Diaz family is no ordinary ass family. We’d always gather around him and he’d present each card to us like we were being introduced as artist of the year at the AMA’s…speech included. The whole family always got a kick out of how he’d describe each of us and our personalities. He always credited Grant for his brilliance, Alli for her loud ass mouth, JG for loving a good party, Saul for his athleticism, Cruz for his sick ass dance moves, etc. I always got a mention for being a hard worker and loving money just as much as my Pops did. After you were ‘called down’, you sealed the transaction with a hug and kiss, and read your card aloud to the group. Even though it’s been almost four years since my last memory of this tradition, my Grammie still continues it, and I praise God for allowing me to have such a strong example of a woman living life for her family after losing her spouse.

Of course, Wes was inserted into the Rican Christmas traditions after we had been together for about two years. Now, some of you may be thinking “Damn, it took you two years to bring him to a family holiday function!?” and my response is quite simply “Absolutely.” In no way, shape, or form, can you just throw an outsider into the mix without them feeling incredibly overwhelmed. You have to make sure your suitor is invested enough to be put into a home with 40+ others, who speak at an outrageous volume, who like to argue about Carolina and Clemson football, who indulge way too much in arroz con habichuelas and Mich Ultras (even though Aunt Lisa seems to always only have 2), and stay up to 1 AM playing Left Right Center. Wes undoubtedly proved himself, and not only accepted the madness but ENJOYED it. So, it’s no surprise that the absence of my Chi Chi’s presence at our Christmas festivities in 2017 hit us both like a ton of bricks.

I’ll never forget the moment we were driving to his sister’s house on Christmas Eve the year he passed away. (We always stayed with his mom and sisters on Christmas Eve, so we could wake up Christmas morning and watch his nieces and nephews open their gifts from Santa.) I felt this immense sadness and fear that Christmas would not be the same without my Money Man and I had a complete mental breakdown right there in the car. I mean, this was a Kim K, ugly-faced, runny nose, sobbing uncontrollably breakdown. I think this unexpected outburst of emotions shocked Wes equally as much as it shocked me, but my guy was nothing short of incredible in handling this situation. I remember him asking, “What do you want to do? Do you want to go be with your family tonight? I’ll come with you, or drop you off, whatever you want.” I just remember shaking my head and saying “I’m not sure what I want to do. It’s just not going to be the same without him.” And here’s what I loved more than anything about Wes…he was so level-headed and honest, but also so caring and considerate with how he approached me. I remember him saying something along the lines of, “You’re right. Things are not going to be the same this year. You’re going to be sad because you miss you grandpa, and that’s okay. But, he’d want you to celebrate and be with your family. He’d want you to share stories, laugh, and feel loved. So, I say we do that for him.” Could I argue anything he was saying at that point? Absolutely not, because he was 100000% correct. So, I dried my tears, Wes stopped and got me a Coke Zero from the gas station, and we continued with our Christmas traditions.

Here I am again, at a another ‘Widow’s Milestone’, trying to figure out how to spread some fucking holiday cheer for the first time (technically it’s my second Christmas without Wes, but last year I think I was running on about 10 hours of sleep and couldn’t see from crying continuously since December 20th, so I'm not counting it) without Wes by my side, all the while facing the anniversary of his death five short days before Santa comes to town. If anyone has recommendations as to how not to feel depressed as shit, hit a sister up! In all seriousness, I think my best bet is to take what he told me three short years ago into consideration. I think I have to suck it up, try my best to soak in all the good moments, and spend time with our families as much as possible to feel the love that we all share. And yes, that sounds corny as hell, but I know that’s what Wesley Camp would want me to do. I know he’d want me to enjoy shopping for his nieces and nephews Christmas gifts. I know he’d want me to continue the tradition of a White Elephant Gift Exchange with my gal pals from high school. I know he’d want me to listen to Christmas music in my car for the next month, even though he’d roll his eyes every time I turned it on. I know he’d want me to enjoy my gift wrapping next to a cozy fire. I know he’d want me to spend time with his mom and sisters on Christmas Eve and eat all the good food Johnny makes. I know he’d want me to go see my Nannie and Poppie for lunch on Christmas Day and take family photos, even if he complained every time. I know he’d want me to go to Grammie’s for Christmas dinner, hug her a little tighter, and play a little Christmas BINGO in his honor.

As this bittersweet season will be for me, not only this year, but in the years to come, I hope that I can continue to point out the bright spots of the holidays. I hope that I can develop new traditions that honor Wes, while keeping up with the old traditions that we loved so dearly. I hope that I can continue to feel the love and gratitude that comes along with holiday gatherings. I hope more than anything, that Wes looks down and smiles, knowing that his Christmas presents are still under my tree and that a stocking will still be hung in his honor.

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A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. Proverbs 17:22