The holidays are finally over. My heart is heavy with the weight of bittersweet memories, changes in traditions, grief and loss. For some reason, the loss of my parents and the traditions I grew up with surrounding the holidays, hit me hard this year.

Usually, my siblings and I and our families get together to celebrate Christmas. We used to gather at the folks’ house, but since their passing, and the subsequent sale of our homestead, the tradition has been to gather at one of my brothers’ houses. There, we would eat and talk and laugh and share memories of Christmases past, knowing the fact that we were together as a family would help ease the loss of our parents. Knowing that sharing our childhood memories and traditions helped us get through the day.

Those of us who live farther away, took joy in the journey home, our hearts filled with the anticipation of spending time together. Walking through the front door of my brother’s house brought a sigh of relief and a feeling of happiness that we were still able to carry on the tradition of family. There were homemade cookies and pastries and food to share. We would toast a bit of Jameson in honor of our parents and, with a tear in our eyes and love in our hearts, all of us felt their presence right there with us.

This year was a little different. My brother and his wife became grandparents and wanted to spend Christmas with their daughter and her husband and their beautiful grandbaby. We all understood, happy for them in the thrill of a baby girl to add to the family.

Yet, as happy as we were for them, it meant another change that I was not really prepared for. What would we do on Christmas? My daughter is in Charlotte and my son goes to his in-laws for the day. This meant my husband and I would be alone. Oh, I know some people would love to have a quiet Christmas, but for me Christmas is a big, boisterous gathering, with stories to tell and jokes and laughter with those who know me best. Seeing my siblings’ faces and giving and getting hugs charges my soul and fills me up with what I need the most to get through in this life. This year, I marked the hours, just waiting for the day to be over. I really couldn’t wait for the day to end.

So, instead we had a post-holiday gathering at my brother’s house. I walked through the door with the same relief and happiness as if it was Christmas. We laughed and ate the cookies and goodies all of us brought. There were stories, old and new. We shared a Jameson toast to Mom and Dad. The baby was there, happy and content, which was wonderful, too.

I’m not really sure why I felt such loss this year, but I sure am glad the holiday season is over. Hopefully next year we can find a way to have a party during the Christmas season, with all of us together. I’m not ready to give this up. As long as we are all alive and well.