Traditions, new and old.

 As many of you know, my dear mother passed away from cancer on December 5, 2019.  I wrote in my previous post about my struggles with my emotions this past year.  I have been open in my mourning, knowing that many try to keep those feelings to themselves.  In my sharing I have heard many stories of shared experiences from others.  Many of you have joined me in voicing your own grief, whether you lost a loved one recently or years ago.  It's beautiful to be able to share that with you.  

A friend recently made a post about having to form new traditions in the absence of a loved one, especially if so many of your holiday traditions centered around the one you lost.  How very true.  This is the second Christmas without my mom, and I haven't a clue what new traditions will emerge.

My mom loved Christmas.  LOVED it.  She collected ornaments and had so many Christmas decorations that yearly she would have to decide on a theme, knowing not everything could come out of storage.  One of my last precious memories of her, if you'll indulge me in penning it to paper, is decorating her Christmas tree.  Last year I flew from Montana to Texas because mom was once again in the hospital.  Cancer had spread to the liver.  We knew time was running out.  The week before Thanksgiving I broached the idea of going ahead and decorating for Christmas.  Mom was hesitant at first, it's against the rules after all (her rules, not mine), but she quickly came around to the idea.  After all, if it raised her spirits but a bit it was well worth it.  I put up the skinny little tree that she had downsized to years ago and then brought out the many tubs of ornaments.  Every year when we were children, mom would take my sister and me to Hallmark and we would all pick out an ornament.  For a few years we continued the tradition with our spouses and children.  Mom still would buy herself a new Hallmark ornament every year.  So, as I opened up these tubs with mom looking on, I asked which ornaments would she like me to put up.  We sorted through them and before we knew it, both of us were in tears.  There were so many emotions, so many memories tied to not only the ornaments, but also to the practice of decorating.

We took a break and sat and cried together and I gratefully got the opportunity to thank mom for instilling such a love of the holidays in me.  So many traditions she began with us that I now do with my own family.  Her legacy carries on.

Today I decided to do my baking.  Nothing worked well for me.  Cookies I've baked hundreds of times failed to turn out like they should.  I let the temperature of the candy I was making get away from me and scalded myself when it boiled up.  Another batch of cookies I let burn.  And through it all, all I could think about was my mom.  Cooking was another part of our holiday tradition.  Fudge and candy, tea cakes, cookies, sausage balls.  We would set the menu and then cook together, each of us doing our own thing.  Talking when we had something to say but being comfortable in our silence too.  Cooking today, making recipes that I once made in her kitchen, in her company, of course nothing went right.  A big piece was missing.

I remember sitting at my Granny's kitchen table, watching as she cooked.  I quietly observed as she bustled around, as my sister and cousins ran around playing, as my mom and aunts did their parts to get a family meal on the table.  Soon, she was giving me little jobs to do.  When my mom started taking over the family dinners, I made Granny's fruit salad.  I made, and still do make, her butterscotch roll.  Those pieces of her are still here.

So, just as with my precious grandmother, I know mom is still here with me.  I know that she will be a part of the holidays for the rest of my days.  No, it's not even close to the same.  Yes, it hurts and springs on you in the simplest of moments, that loss.  New traditions will also emerge as we try to figure out how to do life with out her.  It hasn't felt like Christmas this year.  Part of that is Covid.  Part of that is a new town.  Mostly its missing my mom.  I have done my best to "fake it" this year, mostly for the kids sake, but I'm going to be honest my friends, there is no part of me that has any Christmas spirit.  I've worn the silly sweaters, listened to the music, watched the movies, sang the carols, decorated, baked, wrapped and shopped, but I still feel a bit scrooge-like.  And you know what?  That's okay.  It's okay to not be okay.  It's okay to not want to celebrate this year.  It's okay to be sad, and missing someone.  It's okay.  

This post has been for me.  If you can relate, I'm sorry, but I also understand.  As another friend once said to me, it's a crummy club to be a member of, but at least you're not alone.  May your holiday season be just what you need it to be, and if it's not, then that's okay too.

The skinny tree sporting the ornaments we finally decided on.

                                               The older tree, after a fun day of decorating.

Reflections

 It's been so long since I sat myself down to write something that I almost don't know where to begin.  I imagine most people forgot I even had a "blog" (is it even considered a blog anymore if you haven't written in it for years?).  There have been moments throughout the past few years that I thought to myself that I should sit down and pen those thoughts to paper, so to speak, but have either lacked the discipline, motivation, or thought that some things were better left unsaid.  So here I find myself, not knowing for sure what has made this moment any different than before. 

I read over my last blog post, in which I discussed our big move to Montana, and all the emotions that went with that transition.  Now, here I am again, months after another move, this time to Wyoming, having experienced many of the same emotions, only now coupled with this year being, well, it being 2020 (you guys feel me).  

This morning I have spent time working on my calendar.  Every year I create a calendar on Shutterfly with all our favorite photos from the year before.  I will hang it in my kitchen and use it almost as a journal, recording important, and not so important, moments that happen.  I always get nostalgic when I am looking through all the photos I have taken but this year I felt something akin to sadness.  Why?

Just a couple weeks ago I was having a conversation about this year with someone.  She made a comment that was something like,"I haven't done a thing this year!"  Of course we did acknowledge the big election which was...something. And, of course, I understand what she was saying, many people didn't have a lot of activity happen.  Most of us dutifully stayed at home, we quarantined, we refrained from travel.  However, that doesn't mean things didn't happen to you.

As I looked over my year in picture form, starting with January, I noticed many things.  I had literally no pictures for the month of January.  For one short moment I questioned this.  How can I have no pictures? Me? Then it hit,  I was in mourning.  I don't know that I could tell you anything that happened that month.  I remember going to therapy once a week, and that's about it.  February was better, we took the kids skiing and being in the outdoors, even in the snowy cold, did (and still does) wonders for my soul.  Spring came and with it so did COVID and the shutdown.  We tried our best to make the best of this new reality we were living.  We powered through at-home learning, played outside when weather permitted, did our best to celebrate three birthdays in the most meaningful ways we could, and spent a lot of time as a family.  Man, it was hard.  In the midst of all that, we also learned we were moving.

Moving was NOT on our radar.  It was scary, and sad, and frustrating, and exciting all at the same time.  We had to buy a house!  We had to buy a house a state away in the middle of a pandemic!  We had to say our goodbyes, pack, and try to get in as much of Montana as we could, in the midst of a pandemic.  I wouldn't recommend it.  Once more, as with every move we have made, we had to face the hurt and pain of being immediately "removed" from peoples lives.  We had people immediately unfriend us on facebook, others just ignored us if we say them in public.  Others were much more upfront, and told us how angry they were, and still others, said they were angry but understood.  Even now, months later, I mourn those relationships.  It's never easy to move.  All of our moves have been difficult, but as I looked at the pictures, capturing our last moments in Montana, I grieve all over again.  Zach and I both have found that we call Montana "home."  I also grieve what we had, the memories we made, the adventures we went on.  It's another byproduct of this year, our adventures have all but screeched to a halt.  Those activities we did, the places we visited during our time in Montana were meaningful for a number of reasons.  They helped us heal from a bad situation in New Mexico.  They helped distract us from not being able to help out with our families in Texas.  They gave us moments of clarity and cleansing when the world became too much to bear.

Now, I don't want you to think the move was all bad.  It hasn't been.  Wyoming has its own beauty and we have lots of plans to get out and adventure more when the world calms down.  The church here has been very welcoming, even with all that is working against us.  The kids love their schools and have found ways to get involved and fit in.  We love our new home and the fact that it is ours. We have found joy here in many ways.  

But still, sadness hits today.  I know I'm not alone in mourning what once was.  I think it's okay to have those emotions, especially this year.  I am grateful for each of you, for allowing me to process through those feelings.  So often we force ourselves to push through, without proper reflection and commiserating. Im a big believer in feeling your emotions and then choosing not to dwell in the bad ones.  This year has been harder in practice, I've lost my mother, I've lost my home, I've lost relationships, but I know I am not alone.  This year has be wrought with divisions, arguments, political strife, death, illness, anger and so much more.  I hope that for many of us will come to realize that if nothing else, we are not alone in our many emotions. 

Now, I will pack up that sadness and lay it down.  I'm going to find joy and excitement in what is to come for us.  I will find hope in the unknown and peace in the knowing that we are never, ever alone.

Thanks for reading.