Twas the Night After Christmas: A Modern Tale of Online Deliveries and Mayhem

If, like me, UPS, Fed-Ex and the U.S. Postal Service left you in a bind on Christmas day, then perhaps a little verse will lessen the sting:

Twas the night after Christmas and all through the house,
My right thumb on computer was clicking the mouse,
Empty stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
Cuz our packages from UPS were clearly not there.

I should be up sleeping all snug in my bed,
But I want to take Fed-Ex out to the woodshed.
Making on-time deliveries should be a snap,
Yet thousands of customers must deal with late crap!

When on my front porch there arose such a clatter,
And upstairs I went to see what was the matter,
As I opened the front door, I saw in a flash,
A man in brown shorts with a belt, not a sash.

I asked, "Where are my presents?" and what do you know?
In his hands were 3 boxes, and my anger did slow.
And then, in the moonlight, what else did appear?
Two white trucks from Fed-Ex with more gifts in the rear.

The gloves, scarves, and CDs I'd bought in one click,
Had arrived a day late from this slow-poke St. Nick,
I asked, "Who is at fault? Who is to blame?
Tell me right now what's the retailer's name?"

"Well, it wasn't just Fed-Ex that failed to deliver,
The fault also lies with last-minute gift givers!
When on 12/24 you order a gift,
It requires our workers to work triple shifts!

Step away from your iPads, and visit a store,
Or how 'bout a mall, that's what they're there for?
There's Macy's, Tiffany's, and even the Gap,
Old Navy and Nordstrom's make shopping a snap!
So go, my children, go to the mall,
Go walk a few miles in your suburban sprawl!"

And I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"See you next year! Hope we'll both get it right!"

Good Grief?

I am tired. More tired than I have ever been in my life. In the weeks since my father's death, I have attempted to drag my family through the holiday minefield. Thanksgiving dinner had the feel of a second funeral with all of us doing our best to give a stiff upper lip at a generic restaurant buffet. Black Friday was packed with an outing to see Christmas decorations, along with a birthday luncheon for Mom, and a Christmas tree lighting. The past few weekends have been a red and green blur, with field trips to Christmas concerts, holiday parties, and more Christmas lights. My young nephews enjoy the spectacle, and we indulge them with  cookies and candy and promises of more, more, more. But, if I said that I was doing all of this just for my nephews, and just for my family, I'd be lying. In the midst of grief, I want to dig into life until I'm up to my elbows in it. I want endless days filled with noise because the quiet and the dark are just too much right now.

But, still, I'm tired. So maybe it's time that I let myself grieve. Even now, at this inconvenient time - when it would be easier to swill some eggnog, put on my Christmas sweater and get with the program. Maybe it's OK to sleep a little longer and sit out a few holiday parties. Maybe it's cool to NOT feel like Christmas shopping and maybe I can be forgiven for not having my Christmas cards signed, sealed, and delivered before Christmas Day. Maybe it's alright to be still and to face all of the fear and the pain and the doubt that grief brings to the surface. In grief, life and death come face to face with one another, and while dwelling on this fact can destroy you, denying this fact will exhaust you.