Traditions

Well, I did it. I forced myself to go down into our basement in order to bring up some of our family Christmas decorations. I couldn't bring myself to put up very many of them. I'm not ready yet. Our life-size wooden nutcrackers sit lonely in our basement, still. The Christmas tree rests beside them: waiting to be decorated. Not this year.

Thankfully, I managed to make our home look somewhat festive, if only for a couple of weeks. Cream colored candles adorned with golden-sprayed evergreens now sit atop our tables. Red needlepoint stockings trimmed with gold engraved names are hung from our fireplace mantle. And, a small collection of Christmas dolls dressed in all of their holiday finery appear almost alive on a window sill for all to see. In our dining room, my table is ready and waiting for Christmas dinner. It's already set with my lovely holiday china: a purchase I picked out together with my mother during a visit with her many years before.

Every where you look are reminders of my mother placed purposefully to honor her. Above the fireplace hangs a memorable gingerbread mantle scarf she lovingly cross-stitched for me as a Christmas present long ago. My dining room tablecloth is made exclusively by my mother's hands. I remember her working on it for months in advance in order to have it finished for my Christmas gift several years past. With love and dedication she toiled with her needle and kaleidoscope of multi-colored threads for hours on end until her fingers practically bled. The large white cloth depicts various Victorian Santa Clauses; exceptionally decorated Christmas trees of all sizes, colors and shapes; and borders of emerald green holly sprinkled in burgundy red berries. I use it every year on my holiday table but this year it means so much more than ever before.

I can't begin to put up a Christmas tree this year. I don't have the energy. Nor do I want to painstakingly unwrap each ornament knowing that many will remind me of Mother. I am not ready for those memories to overwhelm me this season. It's all I can do to make it through.

Some traditions can't be ignored however; Christmas dinner being one of them. My sons and new daughter-in-law will be here and expect them. My husband, Gary is happy with whatever is put in front of him. But, my boys are different. My youngest son, Justin will be looking for my 'home-made' noodles; a recipe my mother handed down soon after I was married. My oldest son, Jayson will be savoring our traditional honey-glazed ham with au gratin potatoes on the side. And, my daughter-in-law, Nichole will wait impatiently for her favorite deserts: warm pumpkin pie or cherry cobbler, or both.

In spite of my loss, Christmas will be celebrated this year, just as my mother would have wanted. Some things will be slightly different; like not having a Christmas tree. But I know I will sit with my family around our dining room table, enjoying the beauty of my mother's many Christmas tidings. We'll tell stories of long ago and share treasured memories of my mom (my children's grandmother.) Many of our family's traditions will be celebrated just like every year before: as they should be.

Tradition is what my mother was all about. She'll be proud of me; of all of us.