Christmases Past

I'm missing my sister these days. The tree is up and all decorated. Our stockings are hung, gifts ready to be wrapped. We're starting new traditions this year and honoring old ones- and in the midst of all the prep I am reminded of Christmases past. 

I had a big sister who loved Christmas. She never grew out of opening gifts with childlike excitement, dipping pretzels in chocolate or making gingerbread houses. Never  got tired of Christmas ham and sweet potatoes (which were her favorites). She would hide the sweet potato left overs in the far recesses of the fridge or "call" them as we were still eating dinner, ensuring they were hers for her leftover meal she would eat just hours after finishing dinner. When she became a mom her excitement over Christmas was increased exponentially as she tried each year to bring new excitement and joy to her son through the best gifts and family time ever. She was so fun to be around all year, but especially during Christmas.

I miss her. 

This year is our third Christmas without her. It has not gotten any easier. In fact, it may be getting harder. Now I have children she would have loved to have met and spoiled. I wish I could see her interact with them even just once. Now her son is older and can understand more about Christmas than before. Now more than ever I want the advice and guidance of my big sister to help me in these early years of parenting. Now more than ever I need her here.

Memories are great to hold on to, but they are just that- just memories. They cannot be hugged, or talked to, or kissed, or laughed with. It's been two and half years since I've done any of that with my sister. That is a long time to be without someone you love.

Our first Christmas without her, my mom, dad and I received glass, heart-shaped ornaments with my sister's name engraved on them. I have kept that ornament stored away since then, never on display. It was too difficult to hang an ornament to honor her instead of have her there.  But maybe this is the year I will take it out of storage and hang it on our mantle, reminding us of Christmases past, but allowing her, in that small way to be a part of our present as well, and maybe even giving some hope for the future. I will always miss her. Every year. Every Christmas. But maybe choosing to honor her each year with that special ornament will make missing her just a little bit more manageable. Maybe.

(Say a prayer today for all those, maybe even yourself, who are spending Christmas without someone they love this year.)

Meah and me. This picture is old, but is one of my favorites.