Bittersweet

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'Tis the season to

be jolly.  But I

have a secret.

At Christmastime,

I cry.

A lot.

Not big sobbing

boo-hoos

but the
eyes-brimming,

heart-squeezing

silent tears

that slide from 

the corners of my 

eyes when

I am moved.

What, you

ask, could cause

crying at

Christmastime?

It's little things

and big things

old things and

new things.

Singing those timeless

carols for the first

time each year, my

voice joining others as

the tunes float above

us to the rafters.

A tear.

Unwrapping ornaments

that hold such dear memories

of a time, a place or

a person.

Another tear.

Have Yourself A

Merry Little Christmas

always brings a tear

when I listen to

this part....

Through the

years we all will

be together, if

the fates allow.

Because, of course,

at some point,

they don't allow.

I miss toasting

Christmas cheer

with my grandma.

She is 93 but she

no longer toasts

and she no longer

knows who I am.

Even though she

is still with us,

I miss her.

I also miss my other

grandma who started

a Christmas account

at her bank every

January because she

loved Christmas so

very very  much.

She and my grampa

raised five boys in a

humble home but she

made sure that Christmas

was magic for their boys.

I miss Mom's brother.

He had a great big

laugh and relished

the small gifts life offered

{including Mom's

Christmas cookies!}.

He died at only 52,
14 short years ago.

My mom still bakes

his favorites, though.

We savor them and think

of his love for Christmas

and for us.  And for a 
moment, Uncle Doug 
is here.

Naturally, that's life.

It is like a train that you

share with other passengers

for part of your trip;

eventually they get off

and others hop on.

The others make me smile.

New companions on this

life train, bringing fresh

joy to our journey.

But I am always wistful when

I think of the love, memories and

camaraderie I enjoyed with

those who have left the train.

Our minister always says

that we feel things more

keenly at Christmastime...

The joys are deeper

as are the sorrows.

I have a dear friend whose

 sister was in the hospital, 
dying, one Christmas season.  
My friend remembers 
spending precious time there
and then stepping out into

the cold sunshine of the

New York City streets

to head for her office,

where the world seemed

almost too merry.

Bittersweet.

She told me that when

her mind turns to that time,

she has to switch it off

and simply remember all

of the good memories from

the past and those she is

creating, right here, 
right now.

When my grandma still

had all of her memories, she

coped the same way when

she felt sad.

She counted her blessings.

And so, this is what I do, too.

And I find the taste of sadness

gives way to sweetness...

As I think about my warm, snug home;

people under its roof who love me,

laughter and smiles from holidays

past....and those yet to come.

The train continues on its journey.

Someday it will be my turn to

disembark and make room for

the others, but until then, I am

determined to enjoy the view,

the ride and this Christmas.

Right here.

Right now.

Thanks for sharing

my ride.

xx

Suzanne










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