A Tree For One

putting up my christmas tree alone

You don't have to be alone to be lonesome
It's easy to forget
The sadness comes crashing like a brick through the window
And it's Christmas so no one can fix it

-Phoebe Bridgers, Christmas Song

I put my Christmas tree up yesterday. I know, it’s not even Thanksgiving yet. But I felt like I needed it early this year; I need the twinkling lights and the cheer and comfort a decorated tree brings into the living room. What I didn’t realize I’d have to contend with is the loneliness of putting up the tree by myself.

This is my first Christmas without him. I’m still a month out from the year anniversary of him leaving, so these holidays are my first experience in fifteen years of going it alone. He’s the one who usually drags the tree and the decorations out of their hibernation in the garage. He’s the one who bends and twists the tree into shape, who wraps the lights around it and finds the extension cord, he’s the one who puts the topper on. We would decorate together, not too many balls, but not too little. I’d have Christmas music playing and there would be hot chocolate for me and we’d finish with the tree way too quick for my taste; I always wanted that moment to last for hours. It was idyllic, romantic. It filled me with warmth and love.

So yesterday I got my son to climb the ladder and take the decorations down. I dragged the tree into the house myself, sorted through the decorations, found the extension cord, wrapped the tree in lights and began decorating. I put on my Christmas playlist and the first song that came on shuffle was “Christmas Song” by Phoebe Bridgers, a sad but beautiful tune that could not have been a more perfect fit for my lonesome tree decorating.

I cried, standing there in front of my still bare tree. I felt an abject loneliness that obliterated any good feelings I had from getting Christmas ready. I wasn’t supposed to be doing this alone. Where was the warmth, the cheer, the hot chocolate? Where was my companion in all this for fifteen years? I thought of him in his new apartment, where he would absolutely not have a Christmas tree - he did the whole holiday joy thing just to keep me happy - alone and oblivious to my heartache and sadness. I wondered if he thought about it at all, if he missed the ritual of putting up the tree and going through the motions of Christmas. I wondered if he missed me at all, if he thought of me having to do all these things by myself now.

Loneliness is a torturous thing. You can have people around you - I have my kids, my family - and still feel an emptiness in your heart and soul, a resounding blackness that seemingly can’t be filled no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard other people try to fill that emptiness for you. There’s a deep sadness that comes with it, an unhappiness that echoes throughout your head day and night. And sometimes it’s worse not being alone when you’re feeling lonely. The company of others should buoy you, lift you up, but somehow it just makes you feel worse that the company you have is not the company you would have liked.

So I decorated the tree myself, half heartedly placing the balls here and there, making sure the lights were in place, getting the stepstool out to make sure the topper was just right. I hummed along with the Christmas songs that filled the room and tried my hardest to feel the cheer I so wanted to feel.

When it was finally done, I plugged the lights in. The tree sprung to Christmas life. The lights filled the room with something approaching joy. I put the skirt under the tree to complete the decor and as The Shins’ version of “Wonderful Christmastime” played, I let out a long sigh. I did it. I put the tree up myself. It wasn’t the first or last thing I would have to do on my own that we usually did as a couple, but it felt like a monumental thing. I sat on the couch and just stared at the tree and its lights and wondered what Christmas Day would feel like this year, without him. I decided it would feel ok. Something about having that tree lit up in the living room despite him not being here felt empowering. It did not chase my loneliness away, but it made me realize I could go on in spite of it.

When the 4:30 darkness came and the only light in the room was from the tree, I put the Phoebe Bridgers song back on and let myself have another good cry.

The desire for annihilation
Is as common as it is unkind
And it's hard to recognize the situation
When you're desperately trying to have a good time

The waves of sadness will always hit me, and I will always be unprepared for them. I thought for a little while that I wouldn’t do a tree this year, because I couldn’t do it without him.

But I could. And I did. And I’m going to desperately try to have a good time.