A Tree Stands in Copenhagen

December 18, 2004. After the funeral, she thought it had been laid to rest. The inexplicable pain she felt over not being able to save her father had tormented her for so long. Almost all her life. She thought it would become easier after he died, as she wouldn’t have to worry about where he was in the world. No longer would she wonder if he was home with his wife, or somewhere out on the streets of Philadelphia feeding his addiction to alcohol.

And when he died, a week before Christmas, the entire family gravitated over to Aunt Dot’s. They danced, sang, cried, and cleaved to each other in a way they hadn’t in decades. Instantly the usual suspects fell right back into place; Bobby dj’ed, Lana and Sahn danced in the mirror, and everybody else cut up, telling jokes and catching up on lost time. Aunt Dot played her life’s masterpiece on the piano, which she entitled “The Garlands”.

Then it was over. Processed. Fully expressed. At it’s logical conclusion. Or so she thought. Everybody went back to his or her life and the new year ensued. Another year passed, and by the end, she was absolutely, positively shocked over the grief she felt the next Christmas. Why now? What ghosts were still haunting her? She was obviously confused and decided to spend Christmas alone, by herself in the midst of her grief.

However, the following year she was determined to not repeat the madness. As November came around, even her mother-in-law reminded her of the incident the year before, saying that she hoped to see her in attendance at this year’s Christmas dinner. “Oh, of course. Please. I’m not going through that again!” she said heartily. Still, there were specks of lingering doubt.

But the Christmas season had gone well. She and Kaj had bought a tree and decorated early in December. Friends came over for dinner, commenting on all the lovely Christmas decorations in the apartment. The only remaining thing to do was to find a picture to put in the tiny picture-frame ornament.

The anniversary of his passing came without incident. She was busy all day and had even called her good friend to wish her a happy birthday. Then she got an email that changed everything. It was from Bobby who had sent a link to a sight that allowed people to light a virtual candle. Bobby had wanted her to light a virtual candle for their father. She clicked on the link and found it to be a brilliant idea. But with each successive page of the website, she was asked to do things she wasn’t prepared for. Take a deep breath. Quiet your thoughts. Reflect on the reason you’re lighting the candle. Add a few words of dedication. By the end, she was reduced to shreds.

The sobs were profuse, reaching far beyond reason and logic. The pain was so deep and deeply disturbing that she let it rip because to hold on to it would ultimately be damaging, she reasoned. And when it was over, Kaj came home from work. She told him of the anniversary. Of her grief. He promptly swept her out of the apartment to the city’s oldest amusement park, Tivoli, for an evening of Christmas beauty and splendor. They walked around, bought half-priced tree ornaments, drank gløgg, and ate æbleskiver. She was happy.

But when they got home, Kaj told her that his mother had found a picture of her father sitting in the scanner. Today of all days. A picture Kaj had scanned two years earlier and emailed to her for the funeral. Slowly, it began to dawn upon her. It was at that time that she finally began to understand. He wanted his due. Her father wanted to be acknowledged during this time in a way that she was trying so much to disregard.

All this time she thought it was about her inner-child needing to mourn. But she had done that again, and again, even more. That’s why it didn’t make sense to her. But no. It wasn’t about the inner child. It was the dead man’s need - his desire to contact the sensitive middle-child who would understand his calling.

The picture sat on her sofa until the next day. She was watching tv when she, during the commercial break, turned to the left to see him staring at her. She turned to the right to see the picture-frame ornament. She laughed as she put it together in her mind. She got the scissors out and carefully cut out the picture and set it into the frame.

She teased him. “You think you somethin’ just because you an ancestor and all. Uhmm hmm. ” She could hear him chuckle. Finally, he had his place. A place he couldn’t inhabit while living. He was now sharing Christmas, with family, as he be would be for years to come.

They were both at peace because a tree stands in Copenhagen.