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.