“The term nostalgia describes a sentimental longing for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. The word is a learned formation of a Greek compound, consisting of nóstos, meaning “homecoming”, a Homeric word, and álgos, meaning “pain, ache”. It was described as a medical condition, a form of melancholy, in the Early Modern period…” – definition excerpted from Wikipedia
I have been calling it nostalgia; my particular state of semi-sadness that informs so much of how I experience Christmas.
Perhaps it’s simply a physical reaction resulting from Vancouver’s gray skies, and the fact that it’s dark by 3:30. Not to mention that on some days I swear the dial is stuck on the twilight setting for the entire day.
Then again, I think it brings up a particularly bleak Christmas when my mother died. She was diagnosed with her cancer at the very beginning of November and dead by the beginning of January. Needless to say, that Christmas wasn’t much of a barn-burner.
But, according to the absolute definition of nostalgia, I should be longing for the past. However, I much prefer the present, and am ever curious about the future. Not to mention that I am enjoying this Christmas right at this very minute.
This does not fall under the dark definition of melancholy because I am actually feeling the quiet satisfaction of realizing what’s essential for me in this season, and more importantly, what is not.
I am more and more content to just be; without a long list of what needs to be accomplished. This is very big stuff for yours truly.
Our tree is up, the carols are playing, I have candles and greenery. All of it makes me smile. We have dates with friends and with each other…
Still, there is a slight poignancy that surrounds this season.
Why else do I cry on cue at the syrupy ending of It’s a Wonderful Life? That whole show is one big saccharine-saturated Hallmark card, and yet, I weep every time for all that poor ol’ Jimmy Stewart gave up (and for all that he gained).
I think part of it is because between movies, cards, Martha, and now Pinterest, there is an impossible picture-perfect ideal of what Christmas is supposed to look like. For most of us, I’m pretty sure our own version of Christmas doesn’t come close.
Let me just say that my family or origin would not make a good Norman Rockwell poster. Fa la la la. Ha!
Instead, I like to think that this slightly bittersweet darkness I notice is simply the shadow that outlines the light. It makes me more appreciative and careful with the moments that matter because I know they will soon be part of a future memory…dare I say part of my future nostalgic self?
So. I want to pay attention to simple connections. Smiling eye contact. A hug. Sparkling trees. A child’s anticipation. A goofy dog. Carol ships. Cookies. Magical reindeer. Tinsel. Candles. Music. Beauty.
And of course chocolate.
I love bittersweet chocolate.
Lovely said! I think this time of year,
We reflect more often on our parents or friends who
have passed. I lost my mom too and she loved Christmas
to bring the family together and share good card games
And catch up. She was the glue that brought the family
together every year.
Interesting as your life evolves, your role changes,
The kids grow up, the tree seems to lose its importance.
But new beginnings begin to awaken, altering traditions a little.
Like you mentioned, getting together with good friends and family.
Taking moments to think about people who have gone as well as the ones
who are still here.
Thanks so much for your wonderful blogs all year, definitely look forward
To reading them, and hearing all the comments! Merry Christmas!
Laurie, what is it about mother’s being the glue that held the family together? I never realized it until she was gone and then it was very obvious.
It’s true that things evolve and traditions alter to include both new and old. (I’m happy to say the meal evolves a little too. Love homemade cranberry sauce:)
Luckily for me, my husband is a lover of all things Christmas and never lets me lapse into the why-bother attitude and I swear the lights make all the difference!
And thank YOU for reading and contributing with your always-thoughtful comments. I love the conversations that come about here.
Wishing you and yours (whoever that includes) a very Merry Christmas!
I also have been feeling a sense of melancholy this season. I am having a hard time trying to find my role in it all this year. As we age, and children come and go, and grandchildren come , and families move away I feel a sense of loss . I was the ‘Queen of Christmas” only a few years ago, with a house full of merry making, adult children and partners, kids everywhere and a house fully decorated with all the Christmas baking and food to put Martha to shame, lol. Life changes of course.. and this year I am finding it hard to even dig my decorations out of storage. I have only one son and his girlfriend here for the holidays.. and I can’t seem to dig up an ounce of Christmas spirit. My ice rink sits half finished, I haven’t started the Christmas clock, that sings carols on the hour for 24 days, no tree yet, no garlands, I am ashamed of myself for not being happy. Stan keeps telling me to keep my chin up and make it a nice holiday for those of us who will be together. That would be the more selfless thing to do. Guess I better get the apron on and whip up that shortbread! Hope I didn’t bum you out, hahahaha! Have a wonderful Christmas!
Kathy, I think it is all wrapped up in your thought that, “as we age, and children come and go…I feel a sense of loss.” That’s pretty much it.
Time, by its very nature, reminds us of loss. And intellectually we can know that life is all about change and that nothing ever is the same way twice, but that doesn’t make the emotions stop coming.
Please don’t be ashamed for not being happy. Remember Popeye! I yam what I yam…Or maybe try on Jesus’s great line, “This too shall pass.”
My plan is to do unto others and look for ways to dispense a little charity and kindness to someone else and to myself too.
I believe your shortbread-making prescription is the first part of a three-part remedy. Second part? Do an unexpected kindness for someone, either a stranger or someone you know, and finally…Dr. Friesen (that’d be me) says, get thee into a fabulous tub with candles a glass of wine or tea & perhaps a shortbread cookie or two.
After you’re all dried off tell Stan you’re required to ask for, and he is required to dispense, a foot massage…Let me know how it works.
I’m so sorry for your loss Colleen. I didn’t realize the timing of when your mother passed….it must have been so difficult for you. My thoughts are with you this Christmas season ( and always)
Thanks Michele. That was definitely a very strange and surreal Christmas and thankfully, time does blur and soften the worst bits.
On a happier note, I wore my mom’s sparkly scarf to a Christmas party this past weekend and it felt like she got a chance to come along and enjoy the moment 🙂