Tuesday, December 19, 2017

When Merry Christmas Meets Blue Christmas

Cnippato78 via Pixabay
Two years ago, I wrote a post called "When Happy Holidays Isn't Happening." I had a few friends in mind when I wrote that post, but I was fortunate enough that my biggest complaint was the hole in my checking account to replace a waterlogged laptop.

This year is my family's first new normal without my mom. She's here, though -- in the poinsettia my dad has beside the fireplace, in the ornament we bought for our tree, in every memory of Christmas that we have.

I don't remember last Christmas and, though I'm sure I wrote about it here, I don't want to look it up. I don't want to remember it. It was the Christmas that we knew would be her last, and that's not what I want to remember, nor is it what she'd want me to remember.

Instead, I want to remember all the years where we celebrated Christmas without wondering what the next one would look like. All the years I drove her crazy because I take "last minute" quite literally and she considered anything later than an hour ahead of schedule "late." All the years she'd say "so, this is Christmas" and would take down the Christmas tree fifteen minutes after everyone left to go home. She wasn't a Scrooge; she just liked order and a Christmas tree still up on December 27 was, well, "late."

It's Christmas, and I don't want to be sad. I know I will be at times, but instead, I want to remember legacies. The love. The advice.

Along those lines, I'd like to share a few more legacies: things I learned from dear friends who are celebrating their Christmases with my mom this year.

From Barb: Listen more than you speak. Speak only after contemplation and when you have something valuable to say.

From Colleen: Be nice to your children's friends. Not only does it make them happy, but it makes them feel welcome as well.

From Marti: Wear socks. When your feet are cold, the rest of you gets cold, too.

Christmas is a time for creating traditions. What traditions will you create this year?


  1. Praying with you and yours. That's probably small comfort ... and I think it might be a good thing that you're not recalling last year. Save your memory space for the good ones.

  2. Thank you, Barb -- and thank you for the card. Prayers are definitely not small comfort. We're doing okay -- she's here in spirit.