Remembering Family Christmases Through the Years
It can be difficult to celebrate when a loved one is missing.
A True Christmas Story
As soon as I heard my Aunt Joan’s voice on the phone, I knew what was coming.
“Doug died today,” she said. Although she had just suffered a terrible loss, her voice was steady and calming.
I cried, but as she described Doug’s peaceful death, my grief was lessened by her courage. Doug had been in extreme pain. Part of me was sad that he was gone and part of me relieved that his suffering was over.
This was the second family death in a relatively short period of time. Just two years before, my sister and brother-in-law had lost their daughter, Sarah, and now my aunt and uncle had lost their eldest son. What made Doug’s death even more difficult was that he died one day after the second anniversary of our loss of Sarah. Doug’s passing brought back memories of my niece’s death and the tragedy of bereavement.
Doug was 56. About a year and a half before he died, Aunt Joan, Uncle Bob, and Doug and his wife had stopped in Halifax, where we currently live, during a cruise. I hadn’t seen Doug in years and was delighted to visit and have a picture taken with him, just as we had pictures taken of all the cousins when we were young. There was no shadow of warning that he would develop a fatal and incurable cancer which would take his life in a matter of weeks after his diagnosis.
Since most of my contact with Doug was during childhood, my mind went back to the past, especially to family Christmases. There were always the five of us: me, my sister Brenda, and our three cousins: Doug, Greg, and Cindy. Although we saw them at other times of the year, one of the best memories of our childhood were the Christmases we spent together at our grandparents’ stately, brick home in Owen Sound, Ontario.
Christmas was always a magical time for me.
It began with Nana decorating her house. She loved to decorate, have company, and throw parties. Festive garlands and bells were looped at the top of the doorways, reminding everyone who passed through that Christmas was on its way. A crèche was set up with Mary, Joseph, the infant Jesus, white sheep, and spotted cattle. Wise men and shepherds stood nearby. Years later, when I could no longer find the manger for the baby, my friend Donna inventively made another from a piece of thick cardboard.
Another decoration I treasured were four, blond-haired, china children with patterned outfits and red shoes. They each held a letter which spelled out NOEL.
Best of all was the white, plastic church which played “Silent Night” when a handle was turned. The church had two stained glass windows in the front, plus three steps which led up to a gold door. The white steeple contained a small gold bell. Always being an imaginative child, many times I sat looking at the church and thinking about the people who might be inside. Looking at the church gave me a feeling of wonder which is still difficult to fully describe.
On Christmas Day, the fun really began.
After having a special coffee loaf and opening stockings with my Mom, Dad, and sister, we went to my grandparents’ house and joined Aunt Joan, Uncle Bob, and the cousins. Santa Claus strode into the living room with his fat tummy and red costume. Since I was the eldest of the cousins, I knew Papa was inside the suit, but my sister Brenda told me it took her a long time to figure it out. Of course, my young cousins had no doubt that this was Santa himself.
One year, Santa arrived while Papa was in the room, causing a lot of speculation! He turned out to be Papa’s brother, Uncle Bill, who had decided to play Santa that year.
After opening brightly-coloured gifts and playing with our new toys, Nana, Mom, and Aunt Joan called us to dinner. We gathered around Nana’s big dining room table which was laden with turkey, ham, potatoes, vegetables, jelly salads, and finally, plum pudding with hard sauce or hot butterscotch.
Nana always looked around at her family and asked, “Is everybody happy?” Which, of course, we were. What more could we ask for but a table full of food and the company of loved ones.
After dinner, it was a special privilege to be allowed to snuff out the candles with Nana’s candle snuffer.
One year, we all went to my aunt and uncle’s home for Christmas. I remember the excitement as Brenda, Doug, Greg, Cindy, and I lined up in a row to go downstairs to the rec room to open gifts. Mistletoe hung in the doorway, the gifts were beautifully wrapped, and we were together as a family, in a circle of laughter and love.
However, just as the patterns of the kaleidoscope that I played with as a child shifted, times changed.
Twist once and I was a bride at my wedding. Uncle Bob was MC. He told me he had really enjoyed the Christmases we spent together and would going to miss them in the future. Andrew, my clergy husband, and I began a journey which led us to many new places and childhood Christmases became a cherished memories.
Twist twice, and Andrew and I had a bevy of children of our own to make Christmas special for. They also had three cousins—Ben, Sarah and Rachel—but because of distance it was rarely possible for us all to be together.
Andrew and I took traditions from both of our families and added new ones. We retained the coffee loaf that Mom always made for Christmas morning. Andrew’s family had lemon sauce with the plum pudding while mine had butterscotch. My husband, who is an excellent chef, made both. I was pleased when my father-in-law confided to me that he really liked butterscotch the best!
On New Year’s Eve, Andrew’s folks had a Spanish custom of eating twelve grapes, one for each month of the year. Eating grapes when the clock struck twelve soon became our tradition as well.
As much as Andrew and I had enjoyed Santa as children, we decided to concentrate on the Christ Child and treat Santa Claus as a fairy tale. When I asked my adult children if they had felt deprived, they assured me they hadn’t. We still read Clement Moore’s famous poem, “Twas the Night Before Christmas,” and opened stockings. The difficulty came when Ruthmarie and Susanna, in particular, felt it their duty to enlighten their classmates on the truth about Santa. I had more than one adult complain about the girls’ mission!
A brand new tradition we established was the early present. When our eldest child, Ruthmarie, was four, I read her the classic children’s book, The Olden Days Coat, by Canadian author, Margaret Laurence. The story ends with the young heroine choosing an early present on Christmas Eve. “Read it again,” Ruthmarie implored when I finished the story, and we did—year, after year, after year, with an early present to follow.
Twist three times and our five children are now grown up. Several are married and for the first time this year, we had Christmas dinner without our youngest daughter, Susanna. We still have all of our children for at least part of Christmas Day, but I realize this may not always be the case. I cherish what I have and ponder that further changes may even bring treasures, such as grandchildren, to share our love and traditions.
Since this past Christmas was the first since Doug died, memories of my childhood Christmases were especially on my mind.
It’s hard to believe that one of my five cousins has gone before us. However, I know that God doesn’t leave us without hope. Before Doug died, he was able to hold his first grandchild in his arms, a beautiful baby girl named Violet. She was the first of Papa and Nana’s great-great-grandchildren. Although they’re no longer with us, in my heart, I still hear Nana asking the question: Is everybody happy?
While we miss Doug, we are comforted in knowing that Violet celebrated her first Christmas and that she is the beginning of a brand new generation. “Yes, Nana, we are happy.”
Ruth Ann Adams is a high school English teacher, Sunday School superintendent, mother of five and pastor’s wife. One of her most recent publications is a story entitled “Charles Holloway: Man of Mystery,” in Promises of Home: Stories of Canada’s British Home Children by Rose McCormick Brandon. She also has a story,”The Cat We Didn’t Need,” in Hot Apple Cider with Cinnamon. Ruth Ann is addicted to cats and British history. Her passion is to bring God’s love and encouragement to others. Ruth Ann has a blog named 5 X Mama. Originally from Owen Sound, ON, Ruth now lives in Dartmouth, NS.