I’m starting this blog not quite sure where exactly I’m going with it… so bear with me here. I’ve just finished wrapping yet more gifts, despite claiming to be done earlier this year. I believe it’s only led me to buy more and be done at the same time as I still have odds and ends stocking stuffers and gift cards to buy. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Christmas and wouldn’t have it any other way, but it just doesn’t feel the same.
The same Christmas music is on the radio, which I’ve been listening to since before Thanksgiving, judge if you will. The same beloved movies that I live to watch every year are showing. There’s the paper and the lights and the tree. It’s all here. And yet, it’s not.
When I close my eyes and picture what “Christmas” is to me, I find myself sitting in the garage of my great grandmother’s house, tons of family surrounding the table with more food than we could possibly fathom eating, all of which was made by Mama McCutcheon. My sister and I would be there early to “help”, which really meant Mama had gotten most of the work done prior to us getting there so we could sit and enjoy each other’s company. Papa would be peeling potatoes at the bar. The occasional bickering/bantering back and forth between the two would make my sister and I chuckle. The Christmas lights were always up and there were presents in abundance underneath the tree. We’d stay and laugh and visit until bedtime. As we’d leave, they’d always say, “Be careful. Now, come back and see us. Love you.”
It absolutely shatters my heart that this is simply a memory. A memory I’ll cherish forever. For some reason, though, I have this fear that Christmases to come will never live up to that memory. Is it a selfish thought? Probably. It’s not about me anymore. I know that since we’ve been blessed with the presence of new faces around the table (Oakley, Levi, Tucker, and Sawyer), faces with starry eyes and the innocent belief of reindeer, Santa, and his elves, we have an opportunity to make a memory like this for them. It just hit me, though, that when I lost both great grandparents and the traditions they carried, I felt like I lost my childhood. Like a piece of me would never be the same.
Sawyer will never know going to Mama and Papa McCutcheon’s. He’ll never get to experience her absolute unwavering, unconditional love that I was so lucky to feel and know. It breaks my heart for him. For me. I want so badly for Mama and Papa to have known him, too. Even today, even though it’s been over a year since losing Mama, I find myself thinking, “I’ve got to call Mama and tell her what Sawyer just said.” I know she’d get tickled by him; he’s too much like me, and, for some reason, she really got a kick out of me and my antics.
I don’t mean to be a Debbie downer or say that I dread Christmas. I know the Christmases coming with Sawyer are going to be some of the best Christmases of my life. It just hurts my heart that they can’t be here for them.
For anyone missing loved ones this Christmas, I’m praying for you. I feel you. While it’s the most wonderful time of the year, it is also a very emotional time of year. It’s difficult trying to make new traditions and new memories without constantly thinking of and missing the ones who made Christmas, “Christmas,” for me.
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