While I was preparing for our annual Christmas Eve party, my aunt and her family were coming home (a few miles away from my house) from a 5-day cruise. They arrived to find that their home of 19 years had been robbed.
Some horrible, horrible people had broken into their house while they were away and stole everything their grubby, awful hands could carry. All their TVs, a few designer handbags, video game consoles, electronics, musical instruments, and my aunt’s jewelry were gone. And as proof of these degenerates’ complete lack of decency?
They took all the Christmas presents.
As if that was not enough, it was glaringly apparent that whoever these people were, they’d once been let into the house as guests of the very family they’d robbed. “Disgusted” doesn’t even come remotely close to how I felt when I heard about it.
My aunt and cousin cried when they realized what had happened, and the entire family is looking for another place to move to.
“It just feels like-,” My aunt shuddered almost sheepishly, “Like we’ve been violated.”
“You always think it can never happen to you,” my sister mused aloud as she dipped her lumpia. “Until it actually does.”
Despite this, however, we still had our Christmas party. My aunts made food, we had our meal, we exchanged stories, took copious amounts of pictures of the baby cousins, and had a generally happy, albeit sobered Christmas together.
In a funny way, it was kind of nice. Despite the obvious tragedy and mental trauma the event took on them, my family was still able to enjoy their holidays with us. It wasn’t so much about the gifts and presents, but the joy you find in the company you keep. I’m sure their lost belongings hurt them to think of and that they’ll be just as heartbroken in the weeks to come, but they were together, had their health, and had us.
It’s likely the worst Christmas, but it’s not the worst that could happen.
At least that’s what I hope they tell themselves when they see the empty spaces in their home.
Written 12/26/10
Written 12/26/10

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