My Remembrance Tradition
This morning, I grabbed the wrapped Christmas Cookies I
found in my stocking at Christmas. I sat
on the couch to the news section of CBS online to review the news. As I quickly glanced past stories on the
Fiscal Cliff, Storm Sandy, and Sandy Brook - all grave impacts to Americans -I
stopped, as I seem to do every year, at the traditional segment. I looked down to realize next to me is my
last Christmas Cookie of the Season! This
last Christmas Cookie symbolizes the start an annual personal tradition.
This time of year, from Thanksgiving until New Years, is
always special and emotional for me. I
smile with friends, attend celebrations, share gossip with old friends, run
into old flames, commiserate with associates, and listen to stories from those
who seem nearly ancient. I celebrate the
Birth of Christ, listen to Handel’s Messiah at least once, hear retelling of
family stories, and reconnect with that little kid once was. For me, this personal celebration of Life,
Family, Friends, and Faith reconnects me with my Family, my old friends, and to
my History.
This season brings tremendous Joy, where even Heavens Angels
and the most notorious of Scrooges among us seem to participate, and it
heightens the memories of the lives that impact us. When most of the festivities are over, after
the temporary expansion of the belt, when I have the last of Mom’s Annual
Christmas Cookies, I am left with a deeply important personal tradition.
With the Christmas Cookie by my side, I begin to reflect on
the year. With that cherished last Santa
Claus, I reflect on all the Joy of this Season, all the Laughter, every special
time spent, all the tradition, every smile, and all the Hope. Often, this tradition is ushered in by either
the first sighting of the "In Memoriam" section from a News
organization or realization of the last Christmas Cookie from Mom. Depending on the year it may be for minutes, but
usually it is for quite a bit longer.
I treasure all of the story-telling, gathering with friends
and family, and enjoying the emotions that accompany the fabulous food, the
concerts, and the gifts. I even look for
the same baubles on the tree, each year, just to make sure the special ones are
there. Yet, with all the joyous merry making, the
ghosts of Christmases Pasts and Experiences Past rise up, to comfort, to haunt,
to encourage, and to remind. I am
certainly not immune from their visits.
Since the early 1990s, when I was nearly devastated from
nearly monthly losses of both family and friends, I began to respond to the
seemingly overwhelming moments of grief, regret and loneliness that can
accompany those ghosts when they visit. In
the deepest moments of grief, loss, and devastation, I needed a time to grieve
personally, heal emotionally, and hopefully move through the depression, loss
and hurt.
Over the years, it is with the last Christmas Cookie, which
seems to be what represents for me the most hopeful thoughts, most loving
traditions, the most powerful positive emotions, that I open up to those other
emotions. I take the time to celebrate
the memories of those who I still miss, those I still love, those I wish were
still here, and those who were most relevant in my life, but who I can no
longer touch, visit or hug. And, it is personal, because for those
moments, those hours, I am at one time singing and rejoicing in having known
them, yet in the next moments sobbing, with tears streaming down my face for
still missing them so terribly much.
This Remembrance Tradition allows me to balance the loss of
my Father with the many values, experiences and DNA faults he passed on to
me. My mom has often identified which
DNA I inherited from my dad. It helps
me balance the regrets in my life with the achievements. And, at the end of this experience, I find
forgiveness, love, hope, and strength. I
also laugh as I remind him that this year, I had more Russian tea cakes than he did.
I greatly miss Doug, Mike, Kevin, and a host of other dear
friends who died of AIDS and the devastating illnesses that accompany that
disease. Yet, through this annual time I
set aside to add to that terrible list, I carefully reflect and rejoice that I
have also added friends, close and dear as well. I have learned that when I am feeling
overwhelming grief in the loss of a friend, that I will find love in some
moments in the past or future. While in
this moment I once again visit the cave in my memory left by a dear friend, carved
out by love but drained out by loss, I can find peace in reflecting on the
acceptance I felt when I was with them, the love they gave and that I
returned.
Yet, new losses touch old more painful loss. I understand that if I never loved again or
made a new friendship, I would never have to grieve again. I miss friends who died suddenly, like
Willow, yet reflection tempers grief. Tthrough establishing this tradition of reflection and remembrance, I have found
ways to remain open to new friendships, revel in old relationships, and revere
the intimate moments between friends laid bare in crisis without becoming
depressed, stuck in the past, or left with feelings of abandonment.
I balance the personal losses with the realization that I
have those around me who stand in their place.
When I have felt some of the most overwhelming feelings of grief, it is
in these moments when I remember the truths of this personal tradition. Even when I feel alone, the truth is that
there are always friends ready to rush to my side to comfort, care and worry
about me.
In moments when overwhelming fear commands my attention,
when the fear of loss staggers me, when my energy is pressed beyond my
abilities, I have friends who call, intervene, or rush to my aid. And, in this moment, I can let out all the
pain, terrible fear, anger at life’s cruelty, and accept my feelings of
exacerbation hurt, because just as those emotions overwhelm me and tears flow
down my cheeks, the thoughts of friends close by and far away balance me,
bringing me stability, thoughts of comfort, and ultimately back to the couch,
where I find that Santa has been consumed.
Then, I laugh. My
moments of grief aren’t over. My moments
of despair have not come to an end. I
have not attended my last funeral. I
will still lose another best of friends; I will someday soon lose one of those who
adopted me into their home. I will
probably still find myself grieving with someone who will die of AIDS. Yet, I know I will still rush to their side
to comfort them. It is what I do, who I am, and why I treasure this Remembrance tradition.
This tradition reminds me to maintain perspective. These moments remind me of the values I have
been taught, the wisdom that has been gained, the wide range of emotions that
we are able to express, and the overwhelming experiences we can endure.
Over 20 years of this Remembrance
Tradition has allowed me a process of facing overwhelming feelings of grief,
extraordinary pain and terrible losses.
It continues to revitalize my will, my love, encouraging my laughter and
my hope. One day, I will meet the little
old ladies I met when I was a kid. I
will see my Dad and grandparents. I will
see those who were in pain and could no longer stay here. It is
no wonder to me that I set this time aside.
As I finish my active grieving, wash away my tears, box up the memories,
and usher out the ghosts, I remember where I left a gingerbread man who
survived!
With the Gingerbread Man in hand, I can confidently say
I have faced horror, grief, loss, and overwhelming emotions. I am able to hug and hold someone who needs
the same kind of comfort I needed.
Perhaps that is why I select the last Christmas Cookie or
the “In Memoriam” as my starting point.
With all the love of my Mother's heart, I start facing current hurts and pains, face the old ones, and prepare for the new. With the symbols of love, hope, and goodness, I can face any of the emotional darkness. During the celebration of the Prince of Peace, these moments restore my
being and my foundation to a place of Peace. And, each
year, at the end of these moments, I thank the Lord for my Mom, this year’s
Christmas Cookies, the experiences of this year, no matter how good or how awful. I pray for my friends and family. I pray that the next year brings “Yes
and More”. I take the time to
raise the last small portion remaining of my Christmas Cookie, break it,
Commune quietly with the past, with the grief, embrace it all and let it go so
that I can get ready for next year without hindrance, hurt or harm.
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