O tidings of comfort and joy
I have a Christmas Eve day tradition. Every year, I pull out my memory chest, and take a walk down memory lane while listening to either Christmas Music or Irish/Celtic music. The memory chest is nothing special; it is rather large plastic storage container where I have kept mementos from my family and my collective past.
Some years it was arduous to keep this tradition.
On December 25, 2002, my grandmother died. She had suffered terribly. From 1995 to 2002, my grandmother was going to hospitals on a regular basis. If it was not for heart surgery, it was for strokes or some other complication due to her diabetes. Her condition had deteriorated so badly by the time I was in law school that my aunts, uncles, and my mom had to place her in a nursing home. It was hard going to that nursing home on Christmas and to see the woman that I remembered and love reduced to nothing more than a shell of her former self. It was hard to look at the pictures of past Christmases where she was full of vitality and joy being surrounded by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
Back in 2003, I was still reeling from the death of my sister-in-law, and my baby niece in a car accident where the other driver was intoxicated. Moreover, it was going to be Maddies first Christmas. In addition, my other niece and nephew would not have their mother at Christmas anymore. I did not want to open that chest and to remember anything. The memories of my past (both good and ill) would lead me back to the lost that my brother, my family, and I had suffered. Furthermore, it would cause the scar on my heart to tear asunder, fester with anger & hate, and cause the wound to grow anew.
Yet, the tradition felt right again in 2005. It was three years since the death of my maternal grandmother. I was finishing some last minute shopping at the Mall of Georgia. After I was done with my shopping, I felt a calling to go Grannys grave and speak to her. Like most Southerners, I visit the burial plots of my deceased relatives and spend time talking to them, but I had not been to Granny and Papaws grave since Grannys death on Christmas Day 2002. While there was a more direct route from the Mall of Georgia to the cemetery, I took my time and drove through the back roads of Northern Gwinnett County and Lawrenceville. I found myself going by a number of places that had significance in my life, such as the old Button Gwinnett Hospital, where I was born, Dr. Ezzards office, where I spend a number of days hoping that he could find a way to make me feel better, Lawrenceville Elementary, where I first attended school, my birth home on Stone Mountain Street. When I crouched next to Granny and Papaws tombstone and spoke a few words, I realized that it was more important to cherish the wealth of memories and love that my grandmother had for me and I for her, and not to focus incessantly on her death on Christmas day. As I drove home, I felt a sense of joy for Christmas that I had not felt in years, and was glad to take that walk down memory lane.
Now, when I go through the Memory Chest, I feel a sense that I am blessed. Also, I realize that what is important in this life is to take care of the ones that I love, and have faith that I will see the members of my family and my friends that are amongst the faithful departed.
So, with all this dribble said, I want to wish you and yours a Merry Christmas.
I have a Christmas Eve day tradition. Every year, I pull out my memory chest, and take a walk down memory lane while listening to either Christmas Music or Irish/Celtic music. The memory chest is nothing special; it is rather large plastic storage container where I have kept mementos from my family and my collective past.
Some years it was arduous to keep this tradition.
On December 25, 2002, my grandmother died. She had suffered terribly. From 1995 to 2002, my grandmother was going to hospitals on a regular basis. If it was not for heart surgery, it was for strokes or some other complication due to her diabetes. Her condition had deteriorated so badly by the time I was in law school that my aunts, uncles, and my mom had to place her in a nursing home. It was hard going to that nursing home on Christmas and to see the woman that I remembered and love reduced to nothing more than a shell of her former self. It was hard to look at the pictures of past Christmases where she was full of vitality and joy being surrounded by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.
Back in 2003, I was still reeling from the death of my sister-in-law, and my baby niece in a car accident where the other driver was intoxicated. Moreover, it was going to be Maddies first Christmas. In addition, my other niece and nephew would not have their mother at Christmas anymore. I did not want to open that chest and to remember anything. The memories of my past (both good and ill) would lead me back to the lost that my brother, my family, and I had suffered. Furthermore, it would cause the scar on my heart to tear asunder, fester with anger & hate, and cause the wound to grow anew.
Yet, the tradition felt right again in 2005. It was three years since the death of my maternal grandmother. I was finishing some last minute shopping at the Mall of Georgia. After I was done with my shopping, I felt a calling to go Grannys grave and speak to her. Like most Southerners, I visit the burial plots of my deceased relatives and spend time talking to them, but I had not been to Granny and Papaws grave since Grannys death on Christmas Day 2002. While there was a more direct route from the Mall of Georgia to the cemetery, I took my time and drove through the back roads of Northern Gwinnett County and Lawrenceville. I found myself going by a number of places that had significance in my life, such as the old Button Gwinnett Hospital, where I was born, Dr. Ezzards office, where I spend a number of days hoping that he could find a way to make me feel better, Lawrenceville Elementary, where I first attended school, my birth home on Stone Mountain Street. When I crouched next to Granny and Papaws tombstone and spoke a few words, I realized that it was more important to cherish the wealth of memories and love that my grandmother had for me and I for her, and not to focus incessantly on her death on Christmas day. As I drove home, I felt a sense of joy for Christmas that I had not felt in years, and was glad to take that walk down memory lane.
Now, when I go through the Memory Chest, I feel a sense that I am blessed. Also, I realize that what is important in this life is to take care of the ones that I love, and have faith that I will see the members of my family and my friends that are amongst the faithful departed.
So, with all this dribble said, I want to wish you and yours a Merry Christmas.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
Happy New Year!
(Gordon Lightfoot? really? I love him!)
things have been fine. i've had such low points the past year or so that fine is pretty good. i weathered the holidays better then usual. having the dogs again has been great. i have to try to remember that when they wake me up early for breakfast.