Traditions of the Heart
Greetings to all near and far and welcome all new clients to my holiday edition newsletter. I hope this finds you well and managing this very busy time of year. Osterville is getting primed for the annual Christmas Stroll and we still have not seen a snowflake! But I do believe in miracles, so there is always hope…
Most of you know that I come from a family of 13 kids - no twins, with sixteen years separating the youngest from the oldest. How my parents managed all of it is truly one of the wonders of the world. They were an amazing team! Looking back, I think they gave us their best at Christmastime.
This year marks 25 years since my Dad has not been with us for Christmas, so I dedicate this holiday edition newsletter to my Dad - a giant of a man in personality, wisdom, faith, and love.
A client recently shared with me that she found a beautiful box in her mother’s belongings that she had tucked away with special photos and memories. It wasn’t until her mother’s death that she knew of this little box. Memories are like rare jewels - kept hidden away until the time comes when you want to shed light on their beauty. This Christmas, it is time to peek inside that box and remember the best of us.
When I was a little girl, I remember my father always singing “Santa Clause is Coming to Town” in his Bing Crosby like singing style to my sisters and me as we headed off to sleep. My dad was the one who would tuck us in at night and sing that song so we would drift off to merry sleep dreaming about Santa, waiting for the inevitable reindeer hoofs making sounds on the roof and hoping he would bring gifts (and forget when we were naughty). As I got older and more babies arrived, I moved down the hall to my older sisters’ bedroom. My dad actually nicknamed us “the three witches”! LOL....A lot of stories from that bedroom!!
Too old now for getting tucked in, I was awakened one Christmas Eve night by my Dad asking me, “Would you like to join us downstairs?” I rubbed my eyes, noticed my older sisters were not in their beds, and quickly got up to see what was happening downstairs!! To my delight, I was greeted by all my older brothers and sisters! I was crossing that threshold from childhood to pre-teenager. My heart was full. As the eighth kid, I was the last one to make the cut and stay up Christmas Eve night with the big kids! You see, my older siblings were my hero’s - funny, smart, athletic, cool, and deeply protective of everyone in the family. I just wanted to be like them and now I was actually hanging out on Christmas Eve with all of them! We ate, drank (when old enough!), sang Christmas songs out of tune (ah-hem-Jimmy!), opened gifts, laughed, then cleaned up the whole place, helped our parents bring up the gifts that took my mom 48 hours to wrap, and literally set up Christmas (Round 2) for the youngest five This was usually around 3 am. My parents were up 3 hours later when the youngsters couldn’t wait to see what was under the tree! This went on for years until everyone was old enough to join the big kids.
Christmas Eve’s began to change once the marriages started and the grandkids began arriving. All my local siblings still went to my parents’ house and we still had a ball-now there was just a lot more of us, and the night ended much earlier as we had children of our own to tuck in.
My Dad absolutely loved all the chaos - he never really liked a quiet house. My Dad was one of 7 kids himself-another close Irish Catholic family-where he grew up looking up to his older brothers and also wanting to be just like them. He was always the one at the end of the night helping us all carry babies, baby buckets, and gifts to the car. Making sure we were all seat belted in and then waiting at the driveway to wave us off. My mom was inside busy cleaning and organizing, but ever the protector, my Dad was the last one we would see us as we drove off.
For all the years with all the chaos, my Dad’s last Christmas Eve was a quiet one. Mom had the flu, so it was my dad who stayed by her side and watched over her making sure she came out of it stronger than before. How could we ever know in a few short months, he would be taken from us?
Our Christmas Eve’s at my parents’ house continued until it became too much for my mom to do both days. So we split up into smaller groups and carried on the tradition of gathering on Christmas Eve. Now, years later, our family has gotten so much bigger, our kids are married and having their own kids, that our Christmas Eve tradition has become a magical memory.
This year, our daughter will be with her husband’s family and it will just be my husband, our two sons, and me. As I open my Christmas box of memories and think back on all the Christmas Eve’s through the years, I am beyond grateful and blessed to have experienced the true meaning of Christmas and the holidays-being with family.
I know my Dad is with my mom and all my siblings and their children in Spirit. There is no doubt. And I think if he were here sitting next to me, he would look at me with that incredible smile and say, “Merry Christmas, Deb. Enjoy your beautiful family. We’ve had a great run”. And, something he would say when he left, “I’ll see you when I see you.” And I’ll see him giving us a wave good-bye, as he did so many times, and my heart will be full, as it has so many times on Christmas Eve.
Merry Christmas, Dad!
From our family to yours: Open your beautiful box of memories, bring all the light you can to all your loved ones and have a blessed holiday season, and healthy and prosperous New Year!!
In peace,
Debbie
