As the holiday season approaches, the absence of my mother looms larger than ever. I vividly remember a moment from a few years ago, just before her passing. I was dropping my son off at daycare when I encountered a little boy, no older than three, who was in distress. He cried out, “I want my mom! I want my mom to come back!” His cries were genuine and heartbreaking, a raw expression of longing that resonated deeply with me.
At that time, my mother was battling terminal cancer, and I could relate all too well to this child’s pain. The thought of a world without my mother was becoming a painful reality. I could see myself in that boy, overwhelmed with the desire for my mother to return, feeling small in a vast world that seemed to be closing in on me.
Now, more than three years have passed since her death, and I’ve faced countless “firsts” without her. I’ve welcomed two more children into my life—children who will never know the warmth of the holidays with their grandmother. They won’t experience the aroma of her famous turkey or her special crescent rolls filled with sausage. They’ve never tasted her delightful holiday punch or enjoyed the thrill of opening a stocking overflowing with surprises from grandma. My mother had a unique ability to create a home filled with joy and warmth, especially during the holidays.
With every holiday season, her absence is felt more intensely. If you’ve lost a parent, you likely understand this sentiment. Sometimes, the emptiness feels like a dull ache, dulling the excitement of putting up decorations. Other times, the pain is overwhelming, and I find it hard to confront directly—like staring at the sun, too bright to bear.
Yet, despite this struggle, I push through, as we all must when someone we love is missing from the holiday table. For the past few years, maintaining traditions linked to my mother has been a challenge. How can we embrace customs tied to someone who is no longer with us? For me, it has often felt wrong, but perhaps this will change with time.
My mother adored Christmas and had a collection of Santas she displayed all year round. I keep one of her little Santas hanging by my front door as a reminder of her spirit and the joy she brought to our lives. As I create new memories with my young family, I’m determined to make the holidays special for them.
This year, we’re trying something new for Thanksgiving. My father, sister, and I will celebrate at my aunt’s house, surrounded by a bustling crowd of relatives. This isn’t our usual tradition, but it feels right. It may not be a tradition yet, but perhaps we’re starting a new one.
Interestingly, my aunt has recently become a foster mother. Her young foster son will be experiencing his first holiday with us, and I can’t help but think he may feel a similar ache for his mother, just as I do. Many of us share this feeling during the holidays.
If you find yourself missing someone special this season, it’s perfectly okay to feel a sense of dullness or ache. It’s normal to look away when the pain becomes too intense. You can always revisit those feelings when you’re ready. You’ll eventually consider what new traditions you want to build moving forward.
And if you ever feel like that little boy at daycare, crying for his mother—know that I understand you. I am you. Many of us are in the same boat.
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Summary
The holiday season can be particularly challenging for those who have lost a parent. As the author reflects on the absence of her mother, she acknowledges the deep emotional struggle that comes with creating new traditions while honoring the memories of the past. Understanding the complexities of grief, she encourages others to embrace their feelings and find comfort in shared experiences.