bittersweet.

The Christmas season is by far one of my favorite times of year, though it hardly comes easily. As many of you may know, my mother passed away one week before Christmas and the holidays are always slightly tainted by her absence. I do not think this is something that will ever go away but it is something I am learning to cope with, little by little. It is this time of year that I remember the snowy ride on the Chinatown bus from Boston to New York, not knowing what I was coming home to. I remember making plans to decorate her room at Greenwich hospital to try to bring some holiday cheer to her suffering, and not getting a chance to see those plans through because she was gone less than 36 hours after my arrival. I remember watching her pass away in pain and tears and fear, rather than in courage and peace and dignity, like everyone likes to pretend. Those memories are hard... but I am not someone to deny myself a good cry, so I let them come. And cry I do. And then I remember my mother dancing around the living room to "One Swinging Christmas." I remember her coming home late on Christmas Eve after working with her friend Heather only to stay up until ungodly hours wrapping presents at the last minute. I remember her signing us up to do a family rendition of "Away in a Manger" at church, much to my father and sister's chagrin, and fighting back laughter at how awful we sounded. I remember her in her long white nightgown, her sleepy voice oohing and ahhing as I opened my presents as a toddler, my dad nearby with the camcorder. I remember the voluptuous, slightly inappropriate snow-ladies she used to make in our front lawn. I remember the good things: the funny things, the heartwarming things, the things that were just her.

I will miss you this Christmas, as I have every year since you left us, and will for the rest of my life. But thank you for always reminding me of the "reason for the season," as you used to say. Thank you for bringing warmth into our home every winter. Thank you for being my mother.

Such a cutie. We miss you, Mumma. Happy Christmas.