My Christmas Carol

Driving around, taking care of some errands the other day with my daughter, Shelby, and she turned on some Christmas music. The Little Drummer Boy by the Harry Simeone Chorale came on. I was instantly transformed to being 10 and sitting alongside my mom in the car listening to her sing along. This was always her favorite Christmas carol.

This year marks the 5th year celebrating the holiday season without my mother. I miss her. I miss her excitement at having the family together. I miss her making her grocery shopping lists only to still go up and down each aisle “just in case I forgot something”.

I miss her voice. Her presence. Her very nature which turned my house into a home for so many years. I miss the way she’d have a story to tell about the ornaments we still put on our tree. I miss her stuffing, which is famous in my family. (This is my first year making it without her.) I miss her eyes lighting up at the idea of a night filled with Christmas movies and a bit of hot cocoa.

I commented to Shelby how much I hate having this love/hate relationship with the holidays. I love this time of year so very much. The cold weather. The fireplaces. The cinnamon. The cookies. The tree. Family gatherings. Dad’s magic Brandy Alexanders and “religious experience” cookies. I love it all!

But I hate that she’s not here. And so much has changed for me this year. My daughter became a wife and my mother wasn’t here to see it. I’m getting my life ready to buy a house which is something I haven’t done since I was married. So many changes, big and small and she’s not here for any of it. Somehow, I feel it more acutely at Christmas time.

People say, “this is life and you have just keep moving forward” and I do. Lots ahead. Grandbabies to come some day. A new home to build. Family outings and trips to take. That’s in addition to the day to day living I get to do quite comfortably surrounded by the love of my family.

So this year, like the 4 behind me and the many ahead of me, I’ll hold her memory tightly to my chest and let it be a salve to my heart. I’ll put up the tree. Make her stuffing. Hang ornaments, both new and old. I’ll pull out THE family cookie recipe and make a batch or two with Hallmark Christmas movies playing on the big screen.

And I’ll remember her, over and over again. Yet in the midst of the pain, there will be peace.

Who knows? I just might pull out one of her silly Christmas vests she used to wear.