happy holidays

The holidays are an emotional time -- for our kids, I'd say it's mostly good emotions, except for having to listen to me say that Santa can still change his mind and leave a lump of coal in their stockings if they don't clean their rooms. For me, it is mostly good, too, but the holidays have become more melancholy as the years, and loved ones, have passed. The Christmas holiday was a special favorite of my late mother-in-law's, and I know that my husband's annual desire to buy a fresh-cut tree stems in large part from his childhood memories of their house -- Laila's house -- decked out it all its holiday glory. The family was never very religious, so theirs was a Christmas celebration in the American pop-culture sense, where it is okay to be happy and joyful, even if the "true meaning" of the holiday is heavily filtered, at best. She used to say that "Christmas is for the kids," so it is always bittersweet to watch our kids -- two of the four grandchildren she never met -- enjoying her favorite holiday.

It is sad, but fitting, that her birthday and the day she passed are bookends to Christmas. I always think of her on her birthday in mid-December, and immediately feel inadequate as I look around at my barely-decorated house and think about my yet-to-be-written Christmas shopping list. After the mad scramble of Christmas and New Year's, I am always reminded of her on the anniversary of the day she passed, remembering the sadness that filled the house, Laila's house, on that day.

And, inevitably, when I think of her passing, I think about her last Christmas with us, and all the Christmases she gave to her family over the years, and how she managed to make the holiday special. Happier times. I suppose this is one of the intangibles of the holidays: the imprint left by these occasions are somehow magnified over time. As the number of people we lose grows, the positive memories of these special times seem to expand to fill that void. Lai's Christmas day festivities, topped off by Christmas dinner on fine china. Memories of "Dad," my father-in-law, making his special signature Christmas morning dish -- the appropriately named, "Special" -- and the family calendars he would distribute, each child's, grandchild's, aunt's, uncle's, cousin's, son-in-law's, daughter-in-law's, and grandparent's birthday written in by hand. Memories of my father, always happiest in his element, surrounded by his brothers and their families, holidays filled with card games, mah jong and plenty of kids running around. Falling asleep in his lap after having too much fun with my cousins, and being carried off and tucked into bed.

If we are lucky, it is these happier holiday memories that endure -- and, hopefully, we manage to create some of these for our kids, too. Happy holidays, everybody.