The Briar Philosopher - Christmas Time's a Comin'

Holly in the window, 

Home where the wind blows,

Can’t walk for runnin’,

Christmas time’s a comin. 

I hope you all had a good Thanksgiving and that there was love abounding. I know the holidays are hard on a lot of people, particularly those who are alone or who are wounded by that empty seat at the table, left vacant by the loss of a loved one. 

By the time you reach my age, the losses start to accumulate. My mother has been gone now for a little over 13 years, and I always miss her most this time of year, with Thanksgiving, my birthday, and Christmas all lined up to remind me of her absence. There are, however, many happy memories of her that jump into my head during these times and remind me that she is still with me and that death is no barrier to love.  

This morning I heard her singing in my head. That old Bill Monroe song I’ve quoted at the beginning of this was one of her favorite Christmas songs, and she’d usually start singing it right after Thanksgiving. She had a big voice and would always sing this one with a twinkle in her eye. It made her happy, for whatever reason, and seeing her happy made me happy. For all the years I was away from home, the song, always remembered in her voice, kept me company, and now that I am home it reminds me that she’s here with me. 

It’s easy to let such memories remind us of the pain of loss, but when the sorrow comes, I try to move beyond it to the reminders of the joy we shared. My mother and I were a lot alike, both stubborn, curious, strong-willed, and self-possessed. We were also very different in a lot of ways, and we were known to butt heads from time to time, but that’s the way of things with mothers and daughters.  We were very good at long conversations and laughter. We both loved all things green and growing. We both had an insatiable curiosity about everything, we both loved to sing, and we both loved Christmas. We’d spend hours cutting pine branches and holly and stringing popcorn and cranberries for the outside trees. We’d go through the seed catalog because I always got to order something for spring planting. She’d read Christmas stories to us and enjoyed watching all the Christmas shows on TV. The Grinch was her favorite and mine as well. She let me stay up with her one Christmas Eve to watch A Christmas Carol. Remembering all of these things doesn’t necessarily make me miss her less, but it does make me remember how much I love her, and that balances out the missing. I say “love”, instead of loved because there is no past tense to love. 

I hope that as the holidays come and go, you will find for yourselves all the memories of joy and the lives and stories shared with those you love who are no longer present, and I hope that remembered love will bring you comfort. I hope also that you will hold those you still have with you a little closer, forgive minor slights, and overlook your differences. Forgive a little harder and love a little harder, worry less about gifts, and learn to make joy out of the simple time spent together. One day, all anyone will have left of any of us will be the memories. I want to stack up enough joy that when someone misses me, years from now, they will have no shortage of remembered love to draw from to balance the missing, and they’ll wake up one morning after Thanksgiving to hear me singing in their head: 

“Can’t you hear them bells a ringin’, ringin’,

Joy to the world, can’t you hear them singin’.

When it’s snowin’ I’ll be goin’ back to my mountain home.”