If you’re reading along with my story, you’ll see that I’ve been sharing my experiences over the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays in 2017.  Things were very different in 2020 with the Covid lockdowns and precautions.  The holidays were more stressful than ever and many found it difficult to follow the rules imposed by their local communities.  This last year, some governors were advocating that people stay home and avoid gatherings or keep their social gatherings to less than 6 people.  It was harsh, sad and disappointing to think that families would have to skip traditions and miss out on creating family memories for the sake of a virus with the death rate of the annual flu.

Holidays are the times that we give unselfishly of ourselves. We are our better selves. We love, we laugh, and we feed our souls with the presence of family and friends.  Holidays are enriched with traditions, those things handed down from one generation to another. Traditions are the icing on a plain cake, which connect memories and spark specific moments of joy.  My children are adults now, off starting their own life adventures, but I have snapshots of memories that I cherish, of our times together.

Celebrating Easter, I would carefully procure the items for a bespoke basket of goodies that the kids would excitedly look forward to. Our house would have tasteful, understated Easter décor, usually using nature as a theme with a bunny or two thrown in.  The children would wake up Easter morning and run excitedly down the hall to find their Easter baskets lovingly wrapped with individually selected items for them – usually toys, candy, and personal items.  We would spend Easter surrounded by my family for Champagne brunch, enjoying the sunshine, relaxing together and laughing.

Thanksgiving was a similar affair, with our tradition being to cook our meal as a family.  One child would be responsible for the potatoes, the other helping to chop ingredients.  My husband and I would do the main work, and certainly the cleanup.  As a reward for hard work, we would go to the theater and see a movie while the turkey roasted.  Later with extended family, we would enjoy our bounty, with a wonderful wine, and great company.

In December, I would choose a theme for the holiday décor. The house was always beautifully, but simply, decorated.  One year it might be crystal items, another year items from nature. On Christmas Eve, when the kids were young, we would tell them we could hear something outside, perhaps on the roof.  Their faces would light up, they would run outside and look up at the sky, often finding the gifts that Santa “dropped” on the roof.  He must have been in a hurry.  Christmas morning would bring more delight as the children opened up their stockings and more gifts from Santa.   The children’s anticipation and joy brought happiness to us as parents. How could we not love to see our children so happy and bright?  Our day only improved as we brunched together at my brother’s home on Portuguese sausage bread.  The extended family gathering had an air of fun and comradery.

My husband and I would return home with the kids to cook the dinner meal for the extended family, once again spending time together as a group.  The four of us were still having fun, working together to create an amazing meal, laughing, and chatting comfortably.  My extended family would join us for dinner, remarking on the beauty of the home décor, the wonderful meal and the enjoyable company.

Papa and Clare, Wayne’s grandparents, spent many holidays with us.  They were faithful, kind, and generous people, and are greatly missed every day.  As devout Catholics, they accepted the “marriage” of Wayne and me, although we had no state certificate or paper to show our commitment to one another.  That would come later. It makes me sad knowing Wayne’s own parents wouldn’t accept me or our children for the color of our skin and the shape of our eyes.  However, Papa and Clare accepted me wholeheartedly into the family, knowing what was in my heart mattered more than how I looked.

Papa and Clare took on the responsibilities of teaching our children about their faith. They made sure that our children were taught the importance and meaning of the holidays we shared, even if my husband and I weren’t very devout.  Although unmarried, they arranged for our children to be baptized, became their godparents, and integrated the influence of the Catholic faith into our holidays. If Clare were alive, she would say it was God’s plan that led Ben to a Jesuit college and finding his first love.

I look back at the wonderful memories I have with my children and extended family over the years and take comfort in the traditions that I have passed down to my children.  They know how to make the holidays special, how to give, why the days are so important, but more importantly, what they’ve learned from us, was the Tradition of Love.  The value of holiday traditions are really about what they do for your soul.  We can pass it down to our children in any form it may take, a rite of passage or a cultural tradition, but for me, the real intent is to ground our children in experiences and practices of showing love for those you care about, be it family, God, or Christ.  Their holiday celebrations will change as they grow and have their own families, but they’ll pass on the best part of my tradition, that of celebrating family, accepting who they are, and loving them unconditionally. They’ll make their own memories — connections to good times, and just maybe, take pause and remember the ones of their childhood.  The memories, good feelings, and closeness that binds your family together is the part I cherish the most – when we were all together as a family.

Photo by Matthias Cooper on Unsplash