This year was filled with ominous diagnoses of terminal illness for our family. Not the kind of presents you want for Christmas.

More cancer for my systir. Well, more of the same cancer, back with a vengeance. More chemo, more surgery on the horizon. Oh, how festive.

Grandma's and Grandpa's ornament

And for Mom? Alzheimer’s. I knew it, could see it. But hearing it was hard. Especially for Mom. Denial and anger, frustration and loss of control of her world. No more driving. May as well nail her coffin shut. Maybe when she does pass, we’ll bury her in her beloved truck. Except she wants to be cremated. Maybe leave her ashes under the seat where she can be a backseat urn-driver and tell any who dare to get behind her wheel that they are following too close, stopping too fast, not doing it right. She’d love that.

All these what-ifs and maybes about the future, or potential lack thereof, has changed how we are doing Christmas.

We are unboxing it.

We unboxed the tree mid-November. Maybe I’ll leave it up past New Year’s Eve. That’s about four or five weeks longer than I usually allow it to take up space on my hardwood floor. And I never let the New Year begin with the old tree. Even though it’s the same tree every year. The fake kind. Pre-lit. But still…

peekaboo ex-Santa bulb that is now my favourite ornament

We decorated it one night when Mom, my systir and my nephew were over. Mom put up the antique ornaments that had belonged to her parents, placing each with painstaking care and love. Each one she hung came with a little story of our Grandma and Grandpa. My systir took pictures. We had some Chinese food, some wine and beer. It was a lovely evening.

We aren’t wrapping many presents. We’re just giving them. Now. No waiting. What are we waiting for? There may be too few tomorrows to enjoy the gift.

Best bottle opener ever

So my nephew has his new shoes and new monitor. My systir is wrapped in her cozy new sweater and comfy stretch pants. Mom will get her sweater this week when I find some thick warm socks to go with it (since she likes to sweep snow in just her stocking feet).

And my nephew got us a fabulous bottle opener. He knows how we love our beer. It’s already magnetized to the fridge, its little cup to catch bottle tops almost full. Already. Don’t judge.

yeah, we like our beer...

Mom and my systir are giving us the only thing we want or need. Time. You can’t even PUT that into a box.

Not only is Christmas unboxed, but it is uncorked, uncapped. Hell, it’s unChristmas.

My favourite kind.