Tears and homesickness on Christmas

This Christmas, I spent a lot of time crying. I don't usually do this, but this year, it hit me hard that every single member of my blood family lives thousands of miles away, and has done so for 21 years. I myself made the choice to leave my German home to find grander adventures in America, and boy, I did. I have built a beautiful life and have packed several life times into one, it seems. When people have asked me over the years if I miss my family, I have always shrugged and said, “I guess. But I have a lot of friends and a 'family of choice' here in America, and that's even better than blood family.” I have whole heartedly believed this – until now.

I miss my sisters and their children, and my mother, who spent several days in the hospital last week without me even knowing it. My mother gave birth to four daughters in six years (bless her heart), and so we are all very close in age. Between my three sisters, they have six children, and some of them, I don't know at all. That breaks my heart, because I know I would be an amazing auntie to them. These nieces and nephews would love their crazy aunt from America.

I miss my father, whom I was estranged from for many years. The one and only time he visited me we spent hours talking and connecting, and thus mended our strained relationship.

The other day, I talked to my mother on the phone, and she mentioned that she slipped on ice and broke her wrist. I felt so sad that I couldn't be there for her, visiting her in the hospital or helping her recover afterwards.

Then I called my sister Pepe, who is one year younger than me and used to be my twin. We hadn't talked in a year. I completely broke down sobbing when I told her that I miss them. She told me that she always feels really connected to me, no matter if we talk or see each other, and that she religiously reads my blog. I didn't know that, although I did start this blog so my family in Germany could partake in our lives here. That made me cry even harder.

When I called my youngest sister Belli, she had to sniffel back tears as well.  We both know how great it would be to commiserate at the end of the day, after all our kids are finally in bed, to drink a nice glass of wine and cry about how hard it is to raise three children, but also how wondrous and joyful.

A ticket to Germany for two adults and our three children costs $7,500. Seven thousand five hundred dollars.  That's 5500 Euros.  I could buy a car with that, which I actually need to do, since mine is beaten up and has lots of miles on it. I would buy a ticket to Germany tomorrow if I had a spare several thousand dollars lying around.

So there, I said it. I miss you, my German family. For the past weeks, I have dreamed about you and my home town every single night. I love you all. Put that in your google translator thingy.

We hiked in the Alps all the time.  Here is us four girls with my mother.

This is us four girls with our father.  The yellow sign is for the name of a town called "Laughter".

Apart from me crying on and off throughout the Christmas holidays, we had a lovely time.  We managed to pull off Christmas without tears (apart from mine), and it actually felt quiet and holy.

I don't know about you, but I feel like Christmas has a lot of weirdness attached to it. And I'm not even talking about the crazy commercialization of this holiday. I'm talking about all the expectations of having to make Christmas special for everyone, when, in fact, it can be quite challenging to live up to the “ideal” of Christmas, or to host a group of people called family under one roof for more than one night.

Christmas is magical for most kids, and that's how it should be.  But for us adults, it's often stressful to get our houses ready for visitors, or travel to visit family, or buy the perfect presents, bake christmas cookies, find and decorate the perfect tree, deal with our childhood memories around Christmas if this wasn't a happy time...

Oh boy, now I've done it.  I managed to turn this blog post into a depressing monologue.  (Excuse me, I have to find a handkerchief to sob into).

Okay.  I'm back (sniff).  The moral of this story?  What I really mean to say...

I don't know.

I do know that love is a strange thing.  It grabs us at inconvenient times.  I mean, this homesickness could have waited til summer, when I could have cried into the fragrant soil while digging in my vegetable garden, feeling virtuous, instead of in this dark time when I want to hide behind the refrigerator and eat chocolate.

Love is incomprehensible.  It remembers, even if we don't.  And I like knowing that my blood family cares and misses me, too, even though I didn't think they do.

Wanna start collecting money for a plane ticket?