Who Knows?

by Kay Heitsch

Christmastime at our house when I was a child had its ups and downs. It certainly wasn't like the sweet Christmas shows you see on TV. My Dad had a severe drinking problem. He hated Christmas, for the most part, and everyone knew it.

It was tough to deal with him at Christmas. My mom would remind me that my dad had a tough childhood. He didn't have a mom because she'd died when he was five years old. His dad never got over her death and lived in a state of depression. Quite frankly, I don't think they celebrated Christmas, and now as an adult, my dad had his issues with it.

I'm no psychologist, but I somehow feel he was still angry that when he wanted something for Christmas, as a child, Dad didn't get anything, so now he just didn't want anything. If he wanted something, he'd buy it for himself.

When the bars closed early on Christmas Eve, my dad would come home drunk. He had been drinking all day. We were used to him coming home this way because he would come home drunk several times a week, usually at 3:00 am, though.

On Christmas Eve, for some reason, he wanted to take me to his church for the Christmas Eve service. My Mom would not hear of it! After all, he was drunk! Her response would start a big argument. My Mom would try to appease him by handing him a gift. He would throw it across the room, yelling, "I don't want this blank gift!" This scenario was played out year after year.

Years later, after my mom died and I was grown, my dad had a heart and attitude change. He loved to get gifts at Christmas or any time of the year.

One year he came to our house for Christmas. My Aunt Carmel, Uncle Fred, Patty, John, and their two little girls also came. Patty played the piano, and we all sat around singing Christmas Carols. Guess who knew the songs? My Dad!

I've often wondered why my Dad wanted to go to church on Christmas Eve when he never wanted to step foot in one any other time. Since he knew the songs we sang that Christmas Eve, I wonder if he learned the songs, as a little boy, by going to church with his Mom on Christmas Eve before she died.

This year if you're at church and someone comes in smelling like they are drunk, reach out to them in love. I wish my Mom would not have been so religious and looked past my dad's drunken condition and had allowed me to go to church with him. Who knows what might have happened.