How are you doing navigating the emotional roller coaster of the holidays this year?
A few weeks ago I felt like skipping Christmas altogether. It just felt wrong to me to open a bunch of gifts when so many people are suffering from the pandemic. On top of that, the grandparents — always an integral part of our Christmases — are wisely, but with immense sadness for all of us, staying home.
Maybe if we just skipped the whole thing it would be less painful. Or maybe it would ease my discomfort about my privilege, which has allowed me to stay safe at home while others carry the burden to save lives, keep essential services and the economy running, and/or face job, food, and housing insecurity.
I realized, though, that cancelling Christmas in my home will not do anything to ease others’ suffering. I remembered that I can experience difficult emotions and still move forward.
So I got to work decorating the house shortly before my college senior came home for his winter break. With so much disrupted for him this year, it felt good to set up the nutcrackers we brought back from our posting in Germany years ago, to smooth my hand over the holiday fireplace mantel runner I had sewn as a young mother, and hang garland on the stairwell handrails.
When it came to the Christmas tree ornaments, though, I hit a wall.
Our tradition is that I put the lights on the tree, then we find an evening when my mother and our sons are all available to hang the ornaments. I can count on one hand the number of times my mother has not been with us over the past 25 years when we decorated the tree. Her job is to unwrap the pieces, bag the tissue paper, and find hooks at the bottom of the ornament box.
In contrast to stylized Christmas trees that change themes each year, our mishmash of ornaments celebrates our family’s interests, travels, and life experiences. Every ornament is infused with meaning — whether memorializing a trip, acknowledging the role sports have played in our lives, or celebrating a milestone, hobby, or favorite animal in a given life chapter.
Hanging our ornaments connects us as a family unit. It reminds us of our core identities, our evolution over the years, and unites our different personalities and interests into one beautiful co-created space held by the Christmas tree.
When my 24-year-old son — whose job requires him to work in an office with others — said he didn’t want to risk our health by coming to decorate the tree, the ornaments became a bridge too far for me. I had been able to connect with some degree of joy in the other decorations, but I couldn’t even look at the ornament box.
Acknowledging Grief and Connecting to Love
I know the time will come when my mother and our sons won’t be here to help decorate the tree. The pandemic has forced a taste of that. It’s painful and grief-ridden. I feel it as a weight in my heart area. I feel it in the tears that surface from time to time.
When I asked myself what it would feel like to not put the ornaments on the tree as an acknowledgement of the non-normalcy of this year, I felt an energetic easing, a lighter feel in my chest. In my body’s wisdom language, this is a YES.
I shared my thoughts with my younger son and asked him how he would feel if we skipped the ornaments this year. He immediately connected the idea as an act of solidarity with his brother and grandmother. Yay! My husband was OK with it too.
Giving intentional meaning to the decision to forgo our ornaments tradition this year shifted everything for me. It became an act of love, both for my family members who can’t be here and for everyone who is experiencing loss this year. The lights will remain because we need light more than ever. As I have written here before, winter holiday lights give us hope.
Flying our Christmas tree at half-mast is our statement to honor the reality of 2020.
I still don’t know exactly what Christmas itself will look like for us. We’re taking things day by day, just like everyone else. This year has taught us that we can survive uncertainty.
We don’t need to push away the pain, we don’t need to pretend everything is OK, nor do we need to get lost in despair.
Gratitude helps me offset the grief — gratitude for family (family physically in front of me and family safe in their homes), for our jobs, our home, food on the table, and for Zoom. Tapping into what we do have is the antidote to what we don’t have. Gratitude allows us to bend in the wind without breaking.
Merry Christmas and happy winter holidays! Wishing you a season focused on what matters most.
