Reflections on the bittersweet nature of the holiday season

I love this time of the year when the seasons change. The holidays are right around the corner, and for me, though it is my favorite time of the year, it is always a bit bittersweet. It’s a strange mixture of entering the joyful holiday season and remembering those who helped make the season bright. The empty seats at the dinner table, in front of the television watching the game, and in the kitchen at the stove filling the house with the aroma of love.

My grandmother, who had the best laugh and made sure that everyone had enough to eat. My aunts and uncles who filled the house with seasonal laughter, and old friends whose presence left the scent of joy and goodwill that lasted throughout the year until they came again.

The nostalgia and the loss can make the season feel almost melancholy.

I remember the first holiday without my grandmother. Although she’d had Alzheimer’s and hadn’t cooked or baked in years, for some reason, that first Christmas Eve after she’d passed away, I missed her food. The smell of her apple and sweet potato pies. Her chocolate cake, and her homemade soup that warmed us on cold winter days. Her hugs that filled your soul every time you entered the door.

My grandmother always made even strangers feel at home. When it was time and guests were leaving, she’d always lean in the doorframe and say, “I’m going to stand right here until you get back.” As they would leave, she’d often yell out, “I miss you already, love you.” Then she’d smile and wave until they were out of sight.

There’s never a day that I don’t think of them, some more than others on any given day. But holidays tend to remind me of the loss and vacancy they left behind. It also reminds me of the gift of joy they left for me. I think of that joy when I try to duplicate my grandmother’s stew, my aunt’s cake, or my grandfather’s chicken.

Over the years, I’ve learned to navigate through the season, finding the joy in the midst of the pain. I’m learning that it’s OK to miss them and still enjoy the season.

It’s the difference between beautiful memories and painful reminders.

For me, choosing the memories is where I find the joy. It’s the space where I land after removing the cake that doesn’t quite taste like my aunt’s, but it still tastes sweet. The stew that I smile and stir on a cold winter’s day. It’s watching a Christmas movie that I know we watched together and laughing at the same scenes every time.

I can’t say that the holidays don’t bring a soft sadness. The reminders can still be painful, but each year, I choose the memories. I choose the joy.