As I sit waiting patiently for snow to gently blanket the world in a quiet hush, I find myself reminiscing about Christmases of the past, where laughter echoed through the air, and the warmth of friendship and family was our greatest gift. There is always a bit of underlying sadness this time of year.
The song… I’ll be home for Christmas ….because what is home? We all have our ideas of what the perfect home is supposed to be- but it always feels just out of reach. So… I’ll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams… resonates.
Silent Night haunts me as I walk by people sleeping in the street. Who has the mental illness, the person lying in the gutter or the person walking by doing nothing?
In the glow of the holiday lights, I can't help but remember the faces of loved one who are no longer with us. I find myself constantly traveling from the past to the present during this time of year. Their absence is a poignant reminder that the magic of Christmas lies not only in the joyous moments but also in the precious memories we've shared. Though they may be physically absent, their spirit lingers in the echoes of laughter and faded photos.
I think of my childhood school mate John Morelli who fell through thin ice and drowned at the age of 12, a passage right of a Child’s Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas-…AND PICTURELESS BOOKS IN WHICH SMALL BOYS THOUGH WARNED WITH QUOTATIONS-NOT TO- would skate on Farmer Giles pond - and did- and drowned.
I think of his parents sitting silently and still… at Christmas even these many years later. I think of my mother, orphaned and shuttled from home to home whose stories of abuse she couldn’t share with me until I was eighteen, hoping I was old enough to understand… and still I wept.
What she gave my five beautiful sisters and brother was the power of resiliency and the ability to love no matter what. Many nights we sat with nothing under the Christmas tree, sitting on the couch singing Carols with a feeling I will never again recapture. Bringing joy to the grown up orphaned little girl that healed her wounds of lonliness.
I do think at one point in life we are all haunted by the dead, and you must invite them in.
The world outside may have changed, touched by the war and wars of the past that echo through time. Yet, in the midst of the chaos, we find solace in the enduring bonds that tie us together. The shared stories that transcend the limitations of time —
As we navigate the holiday season, let us embrace the imperfections that make it uniquely ours. In the quest for a perfect Christmas, we often forget that the true beauty lies in the imperfect symphony of moments —and the shared silence that speaks volumes.
There is still that beautiful moment on Christmas Eve, right before midnight when I feel that something miraculous can happen.
So, let's raise a toast to the memories of friends who walked this journey with us, to the resilience born from challenges, and to the imperfectly perfect Christmas that unfolds before us.
In this season of reflection and celebration, may the warmth of love fill your heart with a bittersweet nostalgia that only this time of year can bring.
Wishing you a Christmas that is uniquely yours, filled with love, remembrance, and the comforting embrace of imperfection. Hug the people that are with you and remember those who have left the room. Merry Christmas ….and I’ll see you at the bar.
By John Coyle- DOTJ Podcast.