I didn’t know how to celebrate Christmas when there was one less person to celebrate with. We lost my grandfather to cancer less than six months before Christmas, and it still felt like a hole gaped and ached in my heart. Instead of being excited and doing the usual things to get ready, I felt like a prop being dragged back and forth along the stage of my life. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Christmas. Then, I had one of my first migraines.
I’m no stranger to pain. I have joint pain that is, pending more definitive blood work, most likely Rheumatoid Arthritis. My head felt like a watermelon being split open over and over. Squiggly lines danced in front of my face, and any light I saw made my head feel like an orange being pulverized in a juicer. I lay in bed in misery, then ran to the bathroom to be sick. The cycle continued until I finally somehow fell asleep. In the morning, when the pain was gone and all that remained was a bone deep fatigue, I realized what I’d forgotten about Christmas.
I’m not saying this migraine was sent to me by a migraine angel in order to make me see the light. Pain like that tends to put things in perspective, though, and for the first time that month, I was able to see past all of the bad things-the loss of my grandfather, the stress of being broke, the nasty joint pain and eczema flareup-and see the good things that sat right in front of me. Things were still stressful, and I still missed my grandfather, but I also still had my family.
I threw myself into Christmas after that. I went shopping and found amazing gifts for the people I love, despite how little money I had. I baked cookies with my grandmother, great-grandmother, mother, and sister, even though it felt strange not to have my grandfather “supervising.” I helped put up our ultra spiky, somewhat deadly blue spruce (we all got poked and scratched getting it into the house and decorated). By the time Christmas Eve came, I remembered why Christmas is so special: the memories behind the traditions. These traditions may seem silly and even pointless at times, but the pure love and joy behind them makes them beautiful.
I still miss my grandfather. Nothing is the same without him, whether it’s Christmas or any other day on the calendar. When I carry on these traditions, it’s his memory that I’m filled with. I can see him opening the last Christmas gift I got him. I smile as I think of him stealing one of the Christmas cookies as they cool on the counter. I can almost hear him whistle along to the Christmas carols playing as we decorate the tree. As I make new memories with my family, I am still very much connected to the old.