No holiday has the power of Christmas when it comes to putting the importance of spending time with the people you love into perspective.
I savored every moment as I watched my children inspect the gifts Santa left them on Christmas morning. I didn’t even mind when my son James woke me up at 3 a.m. announcing that Santa had already visited. We did manage to get in a couple of hours of sleep before the rest of our crew arose.
But I’m not complaining. I know how fast it passes by.
As I watch my children light up as they eagerly tear away wrapping paper from a pile of presents, I can clearly remember what it was like when I was the child whose family always somehow found a way to make Christmas seem like magic.
The funny thing is that I can rarely remember specific gifts (even though they may have seemed like the most important thing at the time), but I can recall many other seemingly small details of Christmases long passed with perfect clarity.
I can remember how hard it was to go to sleep on Christmas Eve because I was so excited, and yet I was so determined to drift off before I scared Santa away.
I can still remember the sound of the 8mm camera that Mom used to capture Christmas memories and the detachable flashes for the cameras that looked like an ice tray of blown light bulbs when they were used up.
In my mind I can still smell both of my grandparents’ homes during the holidays. It sounds funny to say that you can remember a smell, but I guarantee you that I could be blindfolded and instantly identify either place by smell alone.
I remember the anticipation of sitting in the living room with the men and talking while the ladies worked their magic in the kitchen. Every once in awhile I’d sneak in to check on their progress until the words “Y’all come on!” practically started a stampede of uncles and cousins.
Grandaddy was always allowed to advance to the front of the line, and after he finished blessing the food, the feast would begin.
Many of the people who are the key figures in my memories of Christmas are no longer around. My grandparents are all gone now, and my father has been gone longer than any of my children have been alive.
There is, of course, some sadness when I see those empty chairs that were once occupied by people who meant so much to me. In fact, sometimes I find myself simultaneously enjoying the present while longing for the past.
But the more time passes, the more I realize what a blessing those empty seats are to me. Having people who meant so much to me to share so many Christmases with was something infinitely more meaningful than anything Santa ever delivered in his sleigh.
Those empty seats now remind me to cherish holidays with the ones that I love and to carry on the traditions of those who once occupied those seats.
One day my seat will be empty too, and I hope that I will have lived my life in a way that even though the celebrations continue without me, my presence is still felt in their hearts.
