A week from today it will all be over. Christmas, that is. It’s a shame, isn’t it? A shame that such a beautiful time of year — visually and spiritually — comes and goes so quickly.
How can it possibly be that our ancestors were so smart? They warned us. They told us it would happen. But how on earth did they know that time would truly move faster as the aging process progressed? How could they have known way back then that this Christmas some of us would find ourselves beginning to see the end of our 50s, and wondering what we did for the last 25 of those years?
How did they know?
I don’t remember my first Christmas remembrance anymore, but I do recall some of which I have wished, at times, that I didn’t have too.
My grandfather, my dad’s dad, died on Christmas Eve in 1967. I was six, and would be seven in a month. It was a blue Christmas at our house. Blue because we lost a loved one and blue, too, because we had a bright blue tree, with blue balls and blue lights, and lots of silvery icicles reflecting that color.
I remember the blue of the tree more than I do the blue of the mood and that’s the memory I like cling to.
In 1978, I was a senior in high school and having the time of my life, when in early November, my best friend was killed by a drunk driver. I remember putting bright red poinsettias on his grave at Christmas and wondering what life at college would be like without him. I also remember the last time we went to Starkville together (anywhere together, for that matter) that fall and the grand time we had making plans for the future. It turned out that college life was not nearly as sad as I had thought it might be that holiday season.
In 2003, on a Sunday just five days before Christmas, my nephew was killed in a four-wheeler accident in Union. We will never forget that day, but we have sweet memories of David that will always be in our hearts to share. This year there is a new grandbaby in that family — such a special gift — who will one day hear tall tales about her uncle.
And then just last week a newspaper friend and colleague of mine died unexpectedly in Bruce. There is no doubt that her husband, and children, and grandchildren will forever associate the Christmas holidays with her death. She always had a huge smile on her face and a booming laugh that livened up any conversation. That’s what I remember about Lisa, and it is my hope that in time, her family will as well.
I suppose life experiences like these are why some people are depressed during the holidays. We remember those gone too soon, and dwell too long there, when we should be focusing on the fond memories we made with those same people.
This Christmas let’s remember the loved-ones no longer with us, and as we do so, let’s remember those shiny blue Christmas trees in our lives. Let’s remember sitting on Pawpaw’s knee and that slick bald head of his.
Let’s remember trying to snatch the swirling leaves of fall through a truck window while driving home with a best friend and let’s remember Gary’s freckled grin when he snagged the very first one.
Let’s remember that wad of sparklers David had taped so tightly together to make his Christmas bomb and the look on his youthful face when it exploded exactly as he hoped it would.
Let’s remember all the smiles, the laughter, and the good times that we have let fly by us in the last 57 — 58 in a month — years.
If we will cherish those memories throughout the year, then come Christmas time again — no matter how quickly it passes — the spirit of the season will already be shining brightly within. More brightly, even, than the tinsel on that blue tree 51 years ago.
Merry Christmas!
