Hidden in the Shadows
What is it about “The Holidays”? They are like a bright light casting shadows on all who have been lost. The rituals and traditions trick us for a few weeks, then fade away, leaving us still lingering in the shadows. The celebrations aren’t the same, even though we try to pass on the customs as we remember. It’s really not the practices that matter; it’s the people who made them important. And they are gone.
Oh, the memories fill us up, about three-quarters, never all the way, floating over the rim. The tinsel and ribbon fill the remaining one-quarter. The loss can never be replaced. The people gone, the family missing, is a hole in the glass that leaks the joy. The season can disguise the slight edge that lingers, the knife of sadness that cuts when we least expect it. Practicing familiar habits from our past is an effort, but the round and round of sameness makes the edges smooth and easier to spin. There is a place for all those who have left, those who shaped the traditions into what they are. That place is in our hearts, hidden, in the shadows, behind the tender doors, almost close enough to touch. Almost.
There is no room for wallowing, pity, or grief. The season clamors for our attention and demands our efforts. The children expect a new memory to be designed for them, but the endeavor to create fresh experiences is exhausting. Except for the youth’s perception, there is nothing new. Those who have repeated the rituals countless times struggle to see the young view because it doesn’t include the lost ones.
So, what can we do?
By recalling those who have left us, we can find and reimagine past joy in our festivities. Heartwarming memories of their happiness and excitement inspire and energize us with creativity and action. We can infuse their eagerness to welcome family and friends into our special meal. Our decor will shine when we imitate their persistence in hanging the lights. The recollection of the joyful laughter as they danced to the accordion moves us to sway along.
The emptiness can also be felt when our meaningful practices, those we grew up with and raised our children on, are not carried forward. Perhaps the favorite routines that built us and made the holiday a treasure chest of joy, laughter, and togetherness need to be updated. The next generation will create their own experiences that will turn into priceless nostalgia. Making them is part of their good life, and we must allow our heirs’ fresh contributions, the moments that last their lifetime.
The validity of traditions is still based on their purpose, which remains unchanged. The intent of the customs will always be to bring our focus to the season's essence. We must look into the eyes of the young to see the hope. In that anticipation is the seed we nurture into faith and love of the reason we celebrate. Look past the sparkle to the source, the beginning of love from generations past. Our hearts must travel back to where peace was given centuries ago in a tiny manger—the true gift of life.
By reviving the mood and spark of our loved ones, and weaving that into new traditions, we can remember what it means to be loved, to celebrate the twinkle in our eyes, and to experience laughter in our hearts. The mystery in the holidays is finding love over and over again in fresh eyes and new souls. Knowing this keeps us trying, even hidden in the shadows of loss. And so, this holiday season, we remember those we’ve lost who gave special meaning to our bygone holiday celebrations as we rekindle their spirit. We can fill our glasses with old traditions, mixed with new, overflowing with love.
Bit by bit, that’s all she wrote…