Christmas is taking shape. I’ve made the cake, bought some but not all gifts, made food plans and put the tree up. I loved the looks of delight on the faces of my two and a half year old grandson and one and a half year old granddaughter when I showed them the tree and the special things hanging on it. The baby, another grandson, is too young to take any notice yet, but I showed him everything and told him about the star, the angel and mix of baubles that all mean something. They don’t know it, but these beautiful children save me from getting too maudlin when I miss my family.
I’m fortunate to have a wonderful family round me of my own making but I miss my mum, dad, grandparents and all my extended family and friends who are no longer with us. I’m grateful to have grown up in such a family to give me strength of character and confidence to stand and grow alone when I had to. My guardian angels who picked me up when I fell, pointed me in the right direction when I took a wrong turning and stopped me from roaming a rocky path. Christmas brings them all near and even if I’m weeping yet again for what is lost, I’m joyful for the magical memories of Christmases past.
These winter ghosts gather to share in the Christmas of today, surrounding me with the love I grew up with. I hope our dinner is perfect, our company convivial and I wish, as I always do that just one more time, the family I miss could be sitting round the table. My Nanna, still with her pinny on, making sure everyone has everything they want, and my dad checking the wine. Until we meet again.
I will do my best to cook a lovely dinner. We’ll share thoughts and memories, we’ll laugh but not cry. Someone will raise a toast to those who have passed but with us in spirit. The children will jump at the snapping of crackers and play with the contents then later mess about until they fall asleep, cheeks rosy and hearts full of love. It’s a family circle and I’m Nanna now.
I hope in years to come, my children and grandchildren will look back with fondness on memories of their own.
I have this poem in a frame and bring it out every Christmas.
Christmas Memories by Patience Strong.
Christmas memories stir the waters of the well of thought-
And reflect the best of what the passing years have brought…
Past and present mingle when we hear the Christmas chimes.
Names come back as we recall good things and happy times.
Thanks for reading, Pam x
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