He was my dad’s sister’s brother, and the father to my two incredible cousins. He was also a father-in-law, a grandfather, an uncle, and more. He used to tell me stories that made me laugh when I shouldn’t laugh, like at the Passover Seder.
All news filters in and out of my ears and my brain and my heart, and my processing skills aren’t always up to par. Generally I find out about anything incredible or terrible while juggling the school/daycare drop-offs and pick-ups, and while figuring out all crazy details involved with work. I found out about my uncle and then had three photo shoots and two blogs posts due.
It’s been a long time since I saw him. It’s been a long time since he made me laugh. That doesn’t mean that memories long ago stored and put away for the winter can’t come out again in brilliant spring color. I remember everything. Sometimes missing people is missing people. Sometimes missing people is more about missing ourselves – the younger versions that laughed and ate and loved deeply. Sometimes, often, missing people is both, and giving anything for just one more day.
When my grandmother died, I found out the morning before a senior year journalism final. I took in the news, drove myself to Rutgers University, aced that exam in that class, and came back to sink into a deep dark hole. I don’t have that luxury anymore. I was on Christmas vacation and had not a single thing to answer to, much less family, parenting and work.
I’d love to tell you I’ve learned a thing or two about feeling, but the truth is that sometimes I feel too much. Or what I consider too much. Then it gets filtered into different places. It breaks into pieces, like glass shards. It seems to disappear.
When I first heard this week’s Finish the Sentence Friday prompt – “This holiday season, I hope..” I thought it would be an appropriate time to share the photos I took at our town’s holiday parade LAST YEAR. That’s right. Not even this year’s parade, which we attended last week in the rain, while sitting in the back of the van and receiving candy from friends and clients, and friend clients. I didn’t take a single photo with my camera. I watched. Luckily I have last year’s never-before-seen photos.
I thought I’d share these photos with a little ditty about how I haven’t fully felt that Christmas spirit yet. Maybe you know the one I mean. It’s when a smell or a song or a Christmas light or a memory or a movie hits you so hard in the heart, that you could swear it’s snowing only on you and for you, the way it does when a new romantic couple kisses at the end of a Hallmark holiday movie. It can only be magic! Two years ago was the first time in my life that I spent an entire holiday season without getting hit by that feeling. Last year I did get hit by the feeling, making two years ago the only time. Unless it happens again.
This holiday season, I hope I feel the same as I know I can feel. I hope I feel the same as my kids. I hope I feel the same as you. I hope I feel the same as anyone who knows how to process their feelings in just the right festive way. Give me that.
Down with numbness. Up with feelings. Up with magic and happy clowns and all the things that hit us hard in the heart.
Today’s Finish the Sentence Friday topic is “This Holiday Season, I Hope.. and there’s still time to write yours. What do you hope for this holiday season? There’s still time! For holidays. For posts. For feelings. Come link up with your spin: HERE.