For me, the holidays have always been about celebrating the unity and love of my family. There is an intense closeness between us –– a closeness that has never wavered or felt conditional.
Each year, there is an extraordinary celebration for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve. There are extravagant meals, intentional presents, cookies for Santa and my perfect younger cousins who always seem to be dressed more fabulous than I ever could.
These moments are enclosed in a beautiful, ethereal bubble of contentment –– shielded from anxieties and mundanity of everyday life. December as a whole always felt like it had special energy to it, an energy that existed solely within the bounds of a 31-day span.
My mother would buy my siblings and me advent calendars with little chocolates that we were eager to eat –– even though they always tasted a bit funny. My sister and I argued over who got to place the Dorothy of “The Wizard of Oz” ornament on the Christmas tree –– though that qualm became more of an inside joke as we got older.
There was also the Elf on the Shelf who moved all around the house, which I was always determined to find first. And, a highly desired fish salad that my grandfather brings to Christmas Eve is as much a reminder of Christmas as Saint Nick himself.
Traditions anchor emotions in the arbitrary nature of time. They keep us connected and serve as a comfortable continuity across years, changes and age. My grandmother was something of an anchor herself within my family. She was always a centric presence during my childhood and, truthfully, a centric presence to almost everyone she encountered.
When I was young, she would come to our school’s Christmas fair and help my siblings and me pick out presents for our family members –– especially our mother.
Each year, I knew I could count on her to help me pick the most perfect items out for those I loved the most. She always knew what people needed to feel safe or loved — a trait that did not end with the holidays.
My grandmother’s spirit was synonymous with generosity and a thoughtfulness that seemed angelic. Her attributes are something I try to emulate now, even in the midst of finals and college demands that always seem so important in the moment.
She died in 2019, and since then, Christmas and the holidays have always felt just a little bit different. It is difficult to conceive a holiday spirit when a person so essential to that feeling has passed away.
I found myself a bit lost that year and felt an anxiety about how incomplete everything would feel without her. My grandmother was a woman who placed her family above all else, and as such, we felt the incentive to enjoy our time together during the holiday season with the notion that it is exactly what she would have wanted.
Watching “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” will of course feel different without her distinct and wonderful laughter, but nevertheless, my sister and I still watch it. Still, when I see those limited edition chocolate coated star cookies, I am reminded of her.
My grandmother’s birthday falls on New Year’s Eve, so it is fitting that each year everyone around the world celebrates. Secretly, I feel as though it is all for her, as it seems to be the only commensurate display that matches the splendor that was her character.
Our New Year’s Eve tradition of playing “Left, Center, Right” –– a game involving three dice and some luck –– never fails to bring to life memories of her sitting at the table beside us.
It feels fitting that my family and I celebrate the New Year with the memory of my grandmother at the center of it all. It reminds me that the people we love stick around for as long as we do –– they can never be truly gone. By continuing to enjoy the traditions of the past, and keep those we love present in our lives, the holidays can still be a truly special time.
