I’m not certain why, but this holiday season, I’ve been
filled with fervent sentiment and emotions. The intensity grows with each pulse
of my heart, and a yearning rises like a tightening in my throat as I go
through the motions of Christmas preparation. Memories of loved ones; and
images of past Christmases dance in my head, bringing me joy entwined with
longing for those who are no longer with us.
I didn’t have opportunity to spend many Christmas mornings
with Walter, only one in the eight years we had. He would fly home to Nova
Scotia so he could spend the holidays with his mother, children and grandson,
Jase. But we did our best to spend it together across the miles. Texts, calls
and Skype video calls at 7:00 pm. The one Christmas we spent together ended up
being his last, little did we know. We enjoyed the togetherness. I’ll always
cherish the memories. Like he and Dad, sitting together, sipping coffee,
chatting away like Waldorf and Statler from the Muppets, up in the balcony,
watching our antics, shaking their heads and chuckling at us. He’s been gone
four years. Some days it feels much longer, yet I can recall a memory which can
feel just like yesterday. I’m grateful to have many from the years we had
together.
The holiday season always reminds me of my mother. It was
her favorite time of the year and she embraced every tradition with a passion.
She’s been gone 18 years and I strive to carry on with those traditions.
Memories come to my mind with each action. Some connected to the activity at
hand, and others just appear. Each lovingly welcomed and savored. I miss her
and think of her often. But this year, I’m missing her immensely, so much that
I’ve found my eyes well up at times, bringing a moment of melancholy so strong
that I have to consciously tell myself to shake it off. Or ‘put some starch in
that backbone’, like my Auntie Lil would say. Once recovered from the sense of
sadness, I can enjoy my memories of long ago.
Our tree was decorated with colorful ornaments, carefully
removed from their box and hung with such precision. Delicate glass bells,
silver with green detail. Gold teardrops. Handblown, mercury glass balls, some
with starburst insets, others with glitter. Silver tinsel, placed one at a
time, ever so delicately. An angel with gold wings and halo sitting atop the
tree, guarding what lies underneath. A wreath with gold bells on the front
door. Christmas cards hung on the entryway divider bookshelf.
Christmas baking was a beloved ritual with our mom. A stack
of Christmas albums, filled with classics by Burl Ives, Judy Garland, Bing
Crosby, Julie Andrews; playing on the console stereo in the living room. Ronco
presents A Christmas Present laid open atop with the Santa’s Village pop-up
proudly displayed. My brother and I peering into the windows of Santa’s
workshop, and carefully trying not to touch the reindeer or trees. The aroma of
freshly baked treats wafting from the kitchen, practically calling us to come
taste. Mom singing along to the music as she stirs the ingredients in her large
white Stoneware mixing bowl, and us eager to help - and maybe sneak a taste of
cookie dough.
My childhood excitement waking up Christmas morning. I can
almost feel my bare feet touching the floor as I rush to the living room with
my brother, Michael, to see what Santa put in our stockings. Our smiles visible
in the meticulously placed tinsel which draped our tree. Mom and Dad joining us
in discovering what lay underneath the colorful wrapping of each gift, one at a
time to allow us to savor the moment. The tv in the background playing the
cartoons we’d only see on Christmas Day. Davey and Goliath, Christmas Is with
Benji and Waldo, The Remarkable Rocket, The Happy Prince. My parents watching
us play as they sit and enjoy the morning before family festivities would
begin.
The family gathering at Auntie Ida’s home. A kitchen filled
with adults, gathered around the table with music playing in the background;
and the children playing together in the living room with the Christmas movies
on tv. The reflection of the tree lights across the screen. Turkey, cabbage
rolls, perogies, and all the fixings for a delicious Christmas meal. Sweet
treats, laughter, love. I can close my eyes and see Mom with my aunties Ida and
Lil sitting with their cups of Sanka. Laughing and talking, hands gesturing as
if they aided in the telling of the stories. A trait which I’ve inherited.
Auntie Ida with her painted nails and her elegant hands moving so gracefully
with a cigarette – the ash continuing to grow, but never falling off. Auntie
Lil’s hearty laugh, coming deep from within. A genuine sound of happiness,
contagious and uplifting. Mom, the little sister giggling at their stories, and
watching them in admiration. My older cousins, who I looked up to, joining
around the table. The next generation. Watching them from the door, their body
language, their laughs, so much like their elders.
Cherished as much as my childhood memories, are those of my
mom as a grandmother. The mere existence of Jordan and Jared made her world
brighter. Her excitement to see their faces Christmas morning equaled theirs.
My boys opening their gifts, one at a time, just like we did. Each gift was
shown to their grandparents with pride. My dad sitting in his recliner enjoying
the entertainment they provided. The kids helping my mom open her presents,
sharing the moment together. Cousins Pat and George joining us for dinner, then
playing family games. Then we adults would relax and watch the boys play until
they gradually tired out. The togetherness of family so treasured.
I know times have changed and so has Christmas for many.
Busy lives, stressful and strapped for time or cash. Some shun the
commercialism, and some embrace the HGTV Christmas decoration trends of the
year. I’m fortunate to look back on Christmases long ago with such wonderful
memories, and tried to create ones for my children, with help and guidance from
my mom. She taught me to shift the focus from fret to festivity. She showed me
that it wasn’t about spending ungodly amounts of money on the newest trends or
copious amounts of presents. It was about simple traditions, togetherness, and
love. And I will continue to carry those values and traditions forward with
love and gratitude in my heart.
Thanks Mom. I love you forever.
