I finally sat down and wrote out a couple of dozen Christmas cards. Oh I know, that’s not many to some folks, but it’s a couple of dozen more than I said I was going to send this year, because I’ve had a case of the good old holiday blues. So it felt good to think about each person I was writing to while reliving the relationships.
Whether your family lights an advent candle or a menorah, the holiday season is one usually filled with great emotion. Preparing special foods, filling the home with favorite decorations, and gathering with family are usual traditions that people look forward to every year. But ever since the death of my parents more than 30 years ago, Christmas has been a little tough for me.
I’ve mourned their passing, but I’m not sure I’ve ever gotten over the loss of my family home. I haven’t had “home” to go back to since 1980, and jobs and geography have largely kept the four siblings in my family from getting together during this special time of year, but I truly believe it’s the absence of “home” that has kept us apart.
So to make the season a bit brighter, I pull out boxes of decorations, and soon, I find myself in a rather reflective mood as I remember all the great holiday traditions I had at home. Oh, I cry a little too. I have the candy dish mom made that looks like Santa sleeping under a quilt – how apropos for me now.
I have my original Christmas stocking that hung from the fireplace, and family ornaments including one that has my mother’s name on it.
But perhaps my fondest memory can’t be stored in a box; it is that of my very own secret Santa – my dad. Three hundred and sixty four days a year, Dad was just Dad, the high school principal in my small town. But that one other day of the year, he was Santa, and just as special as could be.
Now Dad had the body of Santa, but the beard and hair came out of a box, along with his Santa suit and boots. And once a year, he would pull that suit on, toss a bag of gifts over his shoulder, and visit a group of children who would never have the ability to question how that portly man got down the chimney, even as they got much older. One year, I went with him on his annual visit to the little school in the country that provided services for the most cognitively impaired students in our district, and the memory of the joy and happiness those students displayed when they saw dear old Santa, and the kindness and patience and calm he exhibited will live on in my heart forever. No amount of wrapping paper can produce a gift as beautiful as this memory.
My Christmas has never been captured by Hallmark, and Norman Rockwell would have found little interest in it. And I know I am not alone with this. But exchanging cards with high school and college buddies, long-time friends and extended family members, refreshes my holiday spirit and reminds me what wonderful people I’ve known and what an extraordinarily wonderful life I’ve had, and continue to have.
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| Though I have lived in Michigan for 30+ years, my heart always returns to Wisconsin at Christmas. |
Note: If you struggle, or you know someone who struggles during the holiday season, I urge you to check out this link.
http://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-living/stress-management/in-depth/stress/art-20047544
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http://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-living/stress-management/in-depth/stress/art-20047544
I welcome your comments. To leave one,
1. Locate the comment section at the bottom of the post. It may say No Comments if you are the first.
2. Hover your cursor over the word Comments and click to open the box that says Enter your comment.
3. After writing your comment, go to the box that says Comment As and choose Anonymous from the pull down menu.
4. Click on Publish.
Thank You!
Thanks for writing this special story about Dad. I never went to the school with him,but did go when he visited the young disabled daughter of one of the teachers on his staff. He wasn't always into Christmas, but when he played Santa it was as Christmas as you could get, and a special gift for all who were there.
Yes, I remember that, too. What a joy it was for that little girl, and made Christmas Eve even more special for our family.
What wonderful memories.
Pam, not only did this touch my heart, this blog triggered many thoughts of Christmas for me as a child – enough for my own personal essay. And I too get weepy the day we put the tree up, not so much for my childhood, but in recalling the days when our girls would decorate the tree and the rest of the house. That was SO MUCH FUN and I really miss them doing that, though I am thrilled that they now are creating their own traditions with their own families. Thanks for sharing!
Sue
Everytime I try to comment, I lose all I have written then don't feel like writing again. Thanks for the tips. For me though we don't really celebrate Christmas, I tell people that I celebrate Santa. I enjoyed hearing this year on public broadcasting how many of the great Christmas carols were penned by Jewish musicians. I find that humorous! As you know our card is a family project and we both enjoy coming up with the photo and newsletter.
So Happy Holidays!
Adrian
Hooray! You kept trying and it worked – thanks so much. And Happy Holidays to you too.
Thank you. I am very fortunate to have such special memories of both my mother and my father.
Thanks Sue. It's such an emotionally charged time, and our heads get flooded with memories. Lucky you, to see the results of your outstanding parenting now, as your daughters begin their family traditions.
I never went with him to the school, but I did go when he visited the disabled daughter of a teacher on his staff. What a joy. I never thought of Dad as being a big Christmas person, but the time he played Santa was one of the best gifts for all involved. Thanks for remembering this memory of Dad. Love, Judy