My grandfather was known to say that each Christmas gets closer and closer as you get older. There is truth in his observation. When you’re young, life seems to crawl by. “Can’t wait until I’m old enough to….” Then, you have children and long for the night that your baby sleeps without waking you. Or, when they can do something that’s a new landmark to brag about, or ability that makes your job easier (or so you think it will). One day, without warning, you wake up and they are living somewhere else and your own life changes in ways you could never have foreseen. It’s then that the time clock goes into warp speed. The age of 30 becomes 50 and 50 leaps to 70. Where have those years gone and what have you done to celebrate each of them? What have you gifted yourself to look forward to? What memories have you gifted to others in your passing?
Sean passed almost 12 years ago, a just 29- year- old would be turning 41 this coming year. What would his journey have looked like and what wisdom could I have shared? Could I have done something different to effect a less tragic outcome? The span of time seems like a day and forever at the same time. It’s occurred to me that I’ve entered the world of Dicken’s classic, A Christmas Carol. I am faced with the Ghosts of Christmas Past and Present, and wondering about the Future.
Christmas Past
I think I live most of the time in the shadow of past holidays. It’s more of a light than a shadow. Memories are full of laughter, a table of family and friends and way too much food. Just the menu for Christmas alone was a family adventure. Scouring through tons of cooking magazines for the fanciest recipes… faux Beef Wellington was a good one! There was hardly room for plates and that didn’t include desserts. Ever make a Partridge in the Pear Tree Pie complete with bird and tree design made of pie crust? There was a year I made 64 dozen cookies, my favorite being one with a malted-ball center. Extravaganza was Sean’s word for my approach to holidays. For me, it was about celebrating as much as possible. (I wonder if I somehow knew how fleeting these opportunities were). When I was growing up, Christmas was special… the one time that concern about money was overtaken by the magic of the season. I wanted to assure that the memories for my children would elicit the same feeling and would last for a lifetime.
Memories…. videos where Glenn is at the bottom of the steps with a video camera, and the kids (Bridget may have only been 7, but Allison was 18 and Lauren was 21!) can’t come down until he’s ready to announce the year, continuing narration through opening of gifts. He was a ham, which meant we were all laughing while ripping open packages. We may not remember what was in the boxes, but we do remember Glenn bedecked in a Santa hat with cheesy commentary. Gifts!! Ok, so I have the need to make everyone happy. At that time, it meant buying anything that I thought they wanted, needed, or might make them smile. Just getting around the room was a feat! Was all this necessary? Probably not. Did it make for happy times and wonderful memories? Absolutely. At least it did for me. There was no greater joy for me than giving and sharing. Lucky for me, my children grew up unspoiled and always thankful.
Of course, the past is always viewed with a tinted lens. Our brains ability to filter the disappointments, exhaustion, and frustration of those moments allows us to choose what we remember. All things considered, I’d do it all again, maybe even bigger. I certainly would have taken more pictures.
Christmas Present
So, this view is much more complicated. Nothing has ever been the same after Sean. For the first year and several years after, I spent the holidays split between here and London. The past three years, there hasn’t even been a tree in our house. We have so few visitors, I can’t work up the energy, and a live tree would be dead by the time we got home. A basement full of decorations sit in lonely silence, unsure of their future, neglected in the present. The joyous energy of people waking in the morning to mimosas, oven baked French toast, and a multicolor array of gifts waiting to be opened is no more, at least not in our house (but our Bridget recreates it every year just for us). There is no reason, nor really energy, to plan elaborate meals. The dinner table has so many fewer guests, if any. My vision of being the grandmotherly matriarch who hands down memories of Christmas is no more. Our children are no longer centered here.
While that all seems sad, and at times it is, there is still joy to be found, only in new places… in London with two adorable grandsons, in Atlanta, with grandchildren who have grown into teenagers already, and in New Jersey when we have the luxury of visiting our beautiful family there. Our families are forming traditions of their own and have welcomed us to participate with open arms. It isn’t the same. It won’t ever be the same, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t just as wonderful. The joy that comes from the love of grandchildren is like no other. Having someone else cook, is much less exhausting. Realizing that buying gifts was the least important part of the tradition is certainly helpful with a decreasing income. Retiring to the Riviera be damned!
There are times when it’s just Glenn and I, like this Christmas Eve. I worked until 7 (ok, so buying all those gifts had consequences) and fell asleep on the sofa. We won’t be awakened by children with an expectant glee in their eyes at 6 AM, but there is something to be said for calm and being able to share our gifts to each other with attention. I actually think Sean might have preferred this version of the holiday, given he did get what was on his list. One thing I know is that today is never quite the same as yesterday, and we cannot go back. We have to find a way to cherish the best of the past and appreciate the gifts of the present, whatever their form. Sometimes, unbridled by expectations and resulting disappointments, we are able to cherish exactly where we are. After all, those memories of the past give us the courage to accept the present.
Christmas Future
Unlike Dickens, I don’t have the ability to foresee the future, nor do I imagine being escorted to it in chains. I do know that I no longer have the need to fill a room with gifts to show people how much I love them; although, I still long to find that one special thing that when they look at it, or play with it, it will remind them how much they are loved. I know that they aren’t disappointed because I haven’t managed to make homemade cookies nor exhausted myself in preparation of the day, which I was almost too tired and busy to enjoy. I also can smile knowing that their family’s traditions germinated in Christmases past. I have the choice of being happy no matter what shape the holiday takes with the luxury of memories that fill my heart with joy rather than let it be weakened by sorrow of what’s missing. That is my gift to myself… acceptance, an ability to choose to be happy in whatever life brings. Is it a perfect gift? Far from it, but it is a healthy one. We can choose to bring happy memories of the past with us, but the missing pieces of them should not overshadow the love that is real today. I know that I no longer have the power to orchestrate others’ experience which is evolving and that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
In my recent trip to London, my older grandson had me sleep with him each night. One night as we were talking, as we always do, he asked why I couldn’t stay longer. I told him that I had to return to work, to which he responded: “Why can’t Zayda go to work and you retire?” Besides being the best idea ever, the sentiment lives with me. What greater gift than the unconditional love of a grandchild?
Yes, as my grandfather said, each Christmas seems to come closer and closer to the last. In a way, it’s part of the gift of aging… it is a time that brings all other times together.
This Christmas, Hanukkah, or whatever you celebrate, may you bring the joys from holidays past, allow yourself to enjoy the present in whatever form it takes, and know that future celebrations are sure to be different, and be okay with that difference. The only thing that matters is that you find love in whatever form… memories, hugs from grandchildren, volunteering, giving to family or strangers. Dickens did have one thing right. We choose our future by paying attention to the present and learning from the past.
There are many whose memories may not sustain them, and suffer from depression and loneliness during the holidays. Keep your heart and eyes open to them and offer them a seat at your table. There really is no greater gift than giving and sharing of yourself.
If you do feel depressed, please reach out to a friend or family, and accept their kindnesses. If necessary, call a hot line. Sometimes all we really need is the support of another person.
In the spirit of Sean, you have become our family and our hearts are always with you. I have a very special intention for a wonderful friend of Sean’s who has become a Sean angel to me. Life is fleeting, but love is forever.
Wishing you Love, Happy Memories, and a Healthy New Year,
Debbie