Thank you, mum, for making Christmas so special

Below you can find another chapter from the book Thank you, mum.  I hope it touches your heart.

(For the Swedish version, scroll down and then select Next post.)

 

"We can wrap them just like back in the old days," you said and brought out white wrapping paper, and a red rectangular box. It contained sealing wax. You heated the wax using a candle, then you used it to seal the paper.

            Did you do it because you wanted to show me something from the past? Because you wanted to re-live childhood memories? Or, maybe, because you didn't want to splurge on decorative Christmas wrapping paper? I'm not sure, but we had such a good time together wrapping those presents. Just like every year. The whole month of December was magical and exciting. You always put on spectacular Christmas shows for your students and created the coziest holiday ambiance at home.

            Every day of Advent, we'd light the candles and bring the cradle made out of clay. That cradle stuck around for many years to come, even though the baby Jesus lost his head.

            One Christmas we dipped candles in Grandma’s kitchen. I didn't know it was so time-consuming. You desperately needed what I tend to lack. P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E.

            The day of Lucia was one of our greatest holidays. You celebrated with your students, and with us. When you no longer worked as a teacher, you liked to see my children's Lucia recitals at school.

            Towards the end, when you had trouble speaking, trouble keeping up with a conversation, you were still able to wrap gifts. We put on Christmas music, brought out the wrapping paper, scissors, tape, and presents. Your wrapping skills had dwindled some, mine were just as pitiful as always. You looked at me and said, "How cozy is this?"

Every year, December was a special month, mum. You made every day so special, filled with holiday cheer. You spread it to the rest of the family, you even put on little Christmas plays for your parents and grandparents. You'd sing and play, my brother would play Santa, and I would play Lucia. We would sing in our high-pitched kids' voices. Thank you, Mum, for making Christmas so special, so special in fact, that it is still my favorite holiday season.

            Who's going to wrap presents with me now, Mum? My teenagers are far from interested. My husband is not a gift-giving enthusiast. Michiel would rather make you a great meal. You and I would hunt down the perfect gifts. Something they'd want, yet something they never saw coming. We cheerfully drank mulled wine, listened to Christmas music, and wrap gifts. I'm the only one left who can see the beauty in this.

            Next holiday season, when I sit down to wrap those special gifts, I want you to be there.

When I sit down with the Christmas music going, I'll put out two glasses of mulled wine. One for me, one for you.

            Promise you'll be there.

 **

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This was a chapter from the book Thank you, mum. A book for those who miss someone.

To read all chapters, type Thank you Mum in the search field on this blog

If you would like to give the book to someone you think can be soothed by it, or to yourself, you can find it on Amazon.