[Apologies to my usual readers…this post is not about vintage stuff or thrift store finds.]
It’s December 27th and Christmas is over.
I celebrated it with my husband and two daughters and it was a lovely day. A blessed day. But sometimes I wish it was a different sort of day. Maybe that’s because in my “mom role” I am, ipso de facto, the one in charge of food. I am the one who plans, buys and prepares breakfast and dinner. I enjoy doing it. I do. But sometimes, sometimes, I want to have someone else doing it too.
Truth be told cooking on Christmas makes me miss my gram’s house on Christmas afternoon. There would be the smell of baking ham and my aproned mom, aunt and gram bustling around the kitchen and me and my brothers getting underfoot. (Once we were old enough we were given jobs like setting the table and filling the relish tray and roll basket.)
Sometimes I miss those days. But fast forwarding to the present, I wonder why I don’t ask for help in the kitchen on Christmas day. I know everyone would be glad to help. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to be my mom, aunt and gram all rolled into one. Maybe it’s because I want everyone else to relax and enjoy the day. Maybe it’s because if I keep busy, I won’t have time to get sad.
But it never works. This time of year shines a spotlight on loss. While I strive to keep in the moment and am generally happy, I can’t help but think about past Christmases and all the people who are now gone…my mom, gram, aunt and two uncles.
So I am giving myself a “cry day.” Instead of trying to ignore the grief, I am giving free reign to the memories and allowing the tears. In the end, I’ll feel better. (You will too…give it a try.)
And next Christmas??? I think I’ll ask for help in the kitchen and start some new traditions!