Jingle those bells, but remember those who are listening

Merry Christmas. Happy holidays. Joy to the world.

Tis the season to be jolly.

Ahhh, Christmas, a happy time of the year. Unless it’s not.

My Christmas isn’t what it used to be. Holiday traditions become memories as families expand, move on and then start to fade.

Oh, there is still a kid inside me who remembers the excitement. But I have adjusted.

Santa is an old friend now, not the magical mystery in the night. And the greatest gifts are not wrapped under a glittering tree. My joy is wrapped in memories of traditions I tried to preserve.

I still savor this holiday but part of me also dreads it. The commercial push. The stress, yes stress, of making sure everyone gets a gift – that must be wrapped. And the bit of failure I feel when I shove gift cards into envelopes.

I remember when gifts had shape and size and a prize to reveal. Seeing a huge pile of gifts was more thrilling than what was inside. A special time I cannot let go.

I realize now what was really special. Not the gifts but the givers. Our parents, aunts and uncles and grandparents in the next room laughing across the dinner table.

They gave us the memories. And those many voices of Christmas past.

Traditions do help. We still put up a real tree, but the branches sag with memories. Decorations with dates like “Baby’s first Christmas,” plus the paper handprint made in grade school, the Harry Potter on a broomstick and more. Feels good to hold them even though it aches a little.

The tree is still about the kids, including the one still inside me. Even if the three sons (no longer kids) are not all here to see it.

Kids help define Christmas. They put energy into joy. They certainly deck the halls. That kid inside me still sings “Jingle Bells.” (Not out loud, mind you.)

I know there’s a religious reason for the season. I don’t mean to ignore that and I expect many find comfort in their faith. Especially when sadness seeps into the holiday crush.

Please know that I do not want to silence any jingle bells. But we need to remember the “merry” in Christmas can be hard ... for many reasons.

I was reminded with this message: “Why don’t you write an article about what isn’t spoken about? All the Mother’s or Husband’s or Wives that are Barely Surviving Christmas. It would be so very much appreciated.”

“Surviving Christmas.” Her words say it better than I could. And now I struggle with how to ease such aching hearts.

The mother who wrote that note must carry the loss of her daughter into the holiday. She is not alone. I guess that’s the point.

Perhaps the best thing we can do for others (and ourselves) is to embrace the pain for what it is – a reminder that those who are gone are still leaving gifts.

Their love. And yes, the “merry” and “joy” they embedded into our Christmas memories.

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His Paperwork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail The Times, 110 W. Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.