Holidays are hard because everything you do is steeped in tradition and memories.

Me. I said this.

It’s December…again. I’ve had 51 Christmases now so it should not be a surprise that this holiday comes around again and again. In my former life, I always looked forward to Christmas. I couldn’t wait to turn on Christmas music, watch every single Christmas movie ever made, decorate the house, bake cookies, attend church and Christmas concerts and plays, and buy the perfect presents for those Christmas morning memories. The list of things to do in December was endless and I loved it.

I loved our Christmas traditions–going out for hot chocolate at Starbucks or depending on the temperature, cokes and slushes at Sonic, and then riding around and looking at all the Christmas lights, Advent calendars and activities, making gingerbread houses, watching Charlie Brown and It’s a Wonderful Life, Rory reading Luke chapter 2 and The Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve, putting cookies out for Santa and hurrying the boys to bed, watching their excitement as they walked out in the morning to see that Santa had been there, French toast for breakfast on Christmas morning, and then just sitting back and watching the boys enjoy their Christmas gifts as they sat in piles of toys and wrapping paper. That was Christmas and all the pieces fit together nicely.

Last year I finally managed to throw away all the cookie mixes, icing, and decorations I had bought in December 2017. I bought them so Patrick and I could bake cookies. He was my baking buddy and we had fun playing together in the kitchen. Unfortunately, we both got sick, and those cookies never got made. Then January came and we were back into our school routine, and I kept thinking we’ll get to them. Then Patrick wasn’t here.

Every year since Patrick died, I’ve made some kind of effort to keep celebrating Christmas the same way we had always celebrated. This year, I decided that I couldn’t keep trying to do that. I could not find any joy in the traditions that had once made our holiday complete. Dragging out decorations, putting up a tree, or buying gifts was overwhelming.

This year looks different at my house. There is no hurry to get things done by a certain time, there is no tree or inside decorations, no packages filling the house waiting to be wrapped, and no moment when Joy to the World touches my soul.

The Christmas music is still playing… sometimes I stop and turn it off because it brings more tears than happiness. I’ve baked more cookies than I have in years. It’s kept me busy, and I’ve enjoyed giving them away to friends and family. I’ve only watched a couple of Christmas movies. Rory and I pulled the projector out the other day and watched Elf on the deck outside. I made homemade hot chocolate. It was a very nice evening and I’m glad we did that.

This is Christmastime now. The days are too long. I can’t believe it’s not January or February yet. I’m grieving what I know should be but will never be again. Death and grieving are sad, but the holidays add an extra layer of sadness. Trying to put all the pieces back when there are pieces that are missing is hard…creating a new puzzle with different pieces is hard… so I keep baking cookies and asking Alexa to play Christmas music… and hopefully I’ll create some new pieces to the puzzle along the way.