Why Holidays are Not My Thing

My least favorite section of Target is the back seasonal section. I can handle it when it's Back to School or Summertime, but I otherwise avoid it. It's not that I don't enjoy tiny stuffed bunnies or anything green. I just hate holidays.

My mother was the queen of holidays. We had Santa and his reindeer flying from a tree to the roof of our house. We had an army of spooky plywood creatures that took over our yard every Halloween. I could sit inside my Easter basket.

I am more like my father. His favorite Christmas phrase was Bah Humbug.

The year I was pretty sure I could be a minimalist or those two years I was too poor to buy gifts for anyone and ended up with this are only part of the reason for my dislike.

While Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving are high on my list of holidays to hate, the two at the top of my list are Mother's and Father's Day. While I understand that these days are parent-focused, I am usually forced to suck it up and play the dutiful child.

On July 2nd 2011, I woke to a phone call from my mother. My father had died of a heart attack. I was not surprised. This was not his first heart attack. Two weeks prior, he had married my step-mother. My father had become a different person since dating his future third wife. He was less angry, less abusive, and less mean. I was proud to sing at their wedding.

Like most children, a little bit of my personality comes from both of my parents. Unlike most children, I have no genes from my father or my mother. My parents flew to Brazil to pick me up when I was three weeks old. My birth mother was 17 years old and was unaware that she was carrying a child for most of her pregnancy.

A loving child remembers to celebrate Mother's and Father's Day. I have a birth mother, a mom, a step-mom and a mother-in-law. I have a birth father, a deceased dad, a step-dad, and a father-in-law. I have never seen two of my parents. I don't know whose nose I have.

It's unfair for my mother to not receive a proper Mother's Day because I am too distracted by the fact that I am still missing one of mine. It's unfair for my step-father to not get a call on Father's Day because I am doing my best to forget the day even exists.

About a month after my dad died it finally hit me that he was gone forever. I was listening to this and tears finally left my eyes.

Thanks, Katy Perry. Now I don't hate the 4th of July.