A couple of the grandkids stopped by the other day, looked around and one of them said as only an uninhibited child can do: “Grandpa, you have a lot of work to do to get ready for Christmas!”
Then the other chimed in: “We can’t have Christmas without coming here! We always have Christmas here!”
Of course, they were right. Since my wife died this past spring, I’d been living out of boxes, attempts at organizing haphazard, not really caring too much (ok, not at all) about appearances.
Decorating was always my wife’s thing.
But dutifully I began.
Boxes were cleared, the floor swept, and I brought up the Christmas bins from the basement.
Labels read: “Ice skaters, candles, tree lights and ornaments,” and on and on.
The biggest box read “Nativities.”
There were tiny glass nativities, hand-carved nativities, and indestructible children’s plastic nativities, the latter the kind with no straw, no star, nothing that could be swallowed.
“Durable” the label on the original box read. And testing that theory were our nephews who one year decided the durable baby Jesus should arrive on a remote-controlled monster truck they called “Grave Digger” which skidded to a stop scattering durable sheep and shepherds alike.
Up on the mantle I placed the branches, candles, and lights as best I could remember my wife’s handiwork.
And the main players from the nativity.
Then, I turned out the lights.
The glow on the faces of the figures reflected there will be the glow on the faces of our grandchildren come Christmas Eve.
The youngest who can read will stumble his way through the Christmas story with unfamiliar words provided by memory from his parents.
And the tears I’ll do my best to prevent spilling down my cheeks will be tears of sadness but also of joy because “we always have Christmas here.”
You sir are doing well and the right things also. It’s the family traditions that hold a family together through the years amidst trials and set the young and older alike on the right path
as they go forward.
Have a beautiful and special Christmas with peace in your heart.
Thank you Joan. Sometimes just going through the motions but realizing too that it’s all about family. Like the late afternoon my wife died when our family was all together saying those two most difficult words and, when she was gone, all of us sitting together in silence and I finally said, “I am so lost.” And one of our daughters said, “Dad, the grandkids still need you.” She’s right of course, as you are in your comments. A most wonderful and peaceful and blessed Christmas to you as well Joan. Thank you.