it's beginning to (kind of) look a lot like Christmas

“Transformation is the business of Winter.” - Katherine May

We have had to reinvent our Christmas before.

27 years ago my dad died in a car accident. A week after Thanksgiving. Months after moving from Arizona to New Jersey.

A quiet permeated the house when I walked through the front door that afternoon. The winter sun low in the sky with no lights on in the house created a sweeping and palpable darkness.

I found a note on the kitchen counter. It read, Dad has been in an accident. I paced around the kitchen and family room looking for other clues; my mom must have been in a hurry, I surmised when looking at our golden retriever, Buffy, standing by the back door looking at me with big brown eyes waiting to be let out. Did this happen an hour ago or three hours ago? I had no way of knowing. The sky looked dismal painted with wispy gray and blue clouds while the leaves slowly letting go fell quietly to the ground. The pit in my stomach grew. I wanted to fall to the ground too.

I walked upstairs to my bedroom noticing the feel on the bottom of my bare feet of the newly installed carpet. I wandered around looking for something to occupy my meandering mind and then I prayed - something I didn’t usually do during the day - while sitting on my bedroom floor waiting for the phone to ring. When it finally did, it was my brother telling me that he had driven my mom to the hospital, that the accident had happened 2 hours away in New York and that my dad was in bad shape.

Hours later, my sister, Heather arranged for a car to take me and my friend Erica to the hospital. The extreme kindness of Erica joining me that day still brings grateful tears to my eyes. After arriving, I went into my dad’s hospital room and saw him bandaged up and hardly recognizable. I held his warm hands. Hands I knew so well.

The days passed with more family coming in and a hope that his condition would improve. Sadly, it didn’t and he died two days later, never having regained consciousness.

Twenty two days later it would be Christmas.

After a week of bittersweet mourning with family and close friends, I returned to school. I was a junior in high school. And at some point, remarkably, Christmas decorations appeared. Looking back, I don’t remember how or when exactly but in the midst of all of that heaviness, the Santas, nutcrackers, and little houses in the miniature village all came out of hiding. I think there was even a wreath on the front door with dried fruit and a velvety red bow.

Heather and her two young boys, stayed with my mom and me. Having my nephews around made everything better. I am sure they were the motivation for decorating the house.

My dad would have wanted it that way. If he had been a holiday, he would have been Christmas. He looked liked Christmas with his rosy red cheeks, white hair, and belly which didn't quite shake like a bowl full of jelly but could have if prompted. He also loved decorating and putting lights up outside. If my dad was Christmas, his smile was dozens of twinkly white lights.

Christmas came and with it, my siblings and I were all together again. My mom’s sister, my quirky and wonderful aunt Joan spent the holiday with us too. We would get a tree and decorate it finding comfort in the familiar homemade ornaments and the ones given to us as gifts over the years.

Hearing Christmas music made me cry and I couldn’t look at pictures of my dad yet. It was hard to stomach that our first Christmas in our new house in this new town that we had moved to only a few months earlier for his job would be without him. Of course it didn’t make any sense. I fantasized about it all being scripted by my imagination. A simple misunderstanding. I thought maybe he was in the witness protection program and would reappear exclaiming how good it was to be back! I saw glimpses of him everywhere.

I also wondered who would buy my mom all of her presents now that he was gone. My dad loved to shop for her and would sometimes take me along asking for my opinion on a pretty silk blouse or jacket. I loved those outings with him as much as he loved buying her gifts.

Christmas Eve night I recall a robot under the tree for my nephews that made a lot of noise. It drove my aunt crazy and she was very vocal about it which made us all laugh. I think about us being together sitting on the couch, on the floor eating pizza, watching T.V. with the tree behind us offering us beauty and hope.

And laughing. Even during those darkest of days, there was laughter. And light.

Over the years, Christmas in New Jersey at my mom’s house got better and better. I still missed my dad. But my siblings and I started buying lots of gifts for my mom and for each other. Some were funny, some were things we needed like socks.

My dad’s younger brother, my uncle Doug and his family moved to the area too so Christmas not only got better, it got bigger and more festive! We felt so fortunate to have my uncle and aunt around.

I met my husband while studying abroad in college. The next year he was with us for Christmas which quickly became his favorite time of year to visit too. He loved the cool weather, the flowing spirits, and overall celebratory vibe.

When my kids came into the picture, we would start tracking the weather weeks in advance checking the likelihood of a white Christmas. A couple of times we got one! Sometimes we even got to go sledding on steep hills close by. Other years the only snow was left over slush in parking lots which they would play in while we shopped.

Josh started making Christmas Eve dinner, often times Beef Bourguignon, and my mom would make chili con queso in an old orange fondue pot as a naughty appetizer.

One year my sister, Kerry got me a karaoke stand when my son was a baby. Josh and I came back to my mom’s house before everyone else, after having egg nog and Christmas dinner at my uncle’s, and put Will to bed so we we could pour ourselves a nightcap and get singing.

After my mom died three years ago, we had to adjust again. We sold her house, our home away from home and we have experienced growing pains ever since then trying out different options to see what feels best.

My husband and I still long for my mom’s cozy house and the welcoming escape of her family room; especially that red and green couch, the warm glow of the fireplace, and her bubbly voice telling stories next to me. All of the memories of friends and family stopping by to sit, chat, and have a drink with us were etched in the walls and on that coffee table.

And here we are again, looking ahead towards Christmas with equal parts excitement, melancholy and nostalgia. It’s a Christmas we never could have imagined. A Pandemic Christmas which sounds like an awful Hallmark movie starring Candace Cameron.

We have made the difficult decision to cancel our trip to New Jersey this year. We feel disappointed and sad with a tinge of relief simply because the anxiety of traveling and the worry of getting sick or getting anyone else sick is ever present. Maybe we will FaceTime with my siblings while we open our presents which sounds depressing right now but is better than not seeing them at all.

I am lowering my expectations and practicing letting go of the attachments I have about things looking a certain way. We are so lucky to have one another even if we can’t all be in the same place this year.

Because Christmas isn’t in one place.

And while it never feels particularly Christmas-y here with the abundance of palm trees and ample sun, it is Christmas-y enough. We are decking our halls and taking full advantage of the cold snap we are having. I even wore a sweater today! All day. And my cheeks were cold the entire time I walked my dog this afternoon.

We are also actively practicing the art of Hugge - the Danish word meaning coziness. Nothing compares to my mom’s warm home but now it is up to us to create one and to continue her legacy. Candles, tea, blankets, sweatshirts, fires, soft music, treats, movies, and lots of snuggling are in order.

Normally there would be more racing and less resting this time of year. But Winter is the perfect time for restoration and restoration lends itself to transformation.

My mom kept moving us forward that first Christmas after my dad died. She simply kept going and kept us going.

This Christmas will not be the same or look anything like ones in the past but we will do our best to reinvent a Christmas that is happy and safe, abundant in coziness and kindness. We will celebrate Hanukkah too next week with my husband’s family. A beautiful holiday about light, miracles and perseverance.

And we will keep going.

I am sad about all of the losses and cancellations this year and about the suffering that so many have endured. I am thankful that everything is not cancelled. We are so indebted to all of the people tirelessly working to keep us healthy, safe, and sane.

And I am thankful for my husband who understands that Christmas is as much a part of me as my red cheeks.

I am my father’s daughter after all.