Reflections on a Christmas Eve

Here we are, among family. We just returned from a family "get together" and although for the first time in years, we will not be going to church, I find myself comfortable with my family, in-laws and their dogs relaxing before reading "T'was the Night Before Christmas" and sending the kids to bed.

We were here last year-last Christmas. It was indeed, our last Christmas-with Mary. Mary was my Mother-in-Law, although she referred to herself as Mom and had me and my brother-in-law do the same. Mary was the Mom I did not have. In fact, she was everything opposite of the woman who bore me. When we got married, Mary came to me at the reception, hugged me, and said, "If you like, I would like to be your Mom."

And she was.

That was seventeen years ago. And this year, we stand to celebrate Christmas in her absence and it is quite noticeable. Conversations all day have drifted back to her and I imagine that will happen again tomorrow. It is amazing how a person's absence changes things, especially one so loved and so much a part of her children's lives. I see in my children's Mother the effect of her example and I thank God that they have the Mom I could only dream of or envy some of my friends.

Last Christmas was beautiful in every way. Cancer had not taken a total hold of her body, so Mary was able to do a lot with us. It snowed Christmas Eve, giving us a White Christmas. The kids played outside in the snow with us and their "favorite uncle", taking turns with the sled and standing on the frozen lake. A particularly nice part of that afternoon was looking back at the house and seeing Mary standing in the balcony window, looking out at us, smiling all the while. We played games in the evenings-laughing, telling stories, watching movies, visiting with extended family and going to Christmas Eve Service. On Christmas Day it we had her Christmas Egg Casserole with Sparkling Gape Juice before emptying stockings and opening presents. She made sure to watch each one of us as we opened our presents. Mary did this because her presents were always thoughtful, intentional, and therefore appreciated. Leaving for home was hard on all of us, especially my wife. It was impactful for me because, as Mary hugged her daughter,  each of her grandchildren and me, she knew it would be the last time-our last time-our last  Christmas together. I do not think any of us spoke for a good while when we left that morning.

And now. despite a wonderful day doing pretty much what we normally do when we are up here, my daughter turns to us and says, "Christmas feels different this year." Yes. Different, indeed.

However, in the midst of our loss, we celebrate the birth of twins to my nephew and his girlfriend. He is quiet excited to be a Dad and has insisted on having family over for Christmas. In this, I find Mary. She loved having her family together for Christmas (or whenever she could, for that matter). We will always have Christmas.

From the looks of things, we always will.

Thank you, Mary.

I mean, Mom.