As I sit here on this cold December 23rd, bundled up in my coat, I can’t help but feel the weight of the world pressing down on me. I’m at the Indian Creek Plaza in Caldwell, where the Winter Wonderland celebration is in full swing. This event completely transforms the entire plaza into a dazzling display of lights and holiday cheer. The event, which runs from late November into early January I think, is magic to the eyes, with beautiful lights twinkling against the dark winter sky. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding me, my heart feels heavy. Heavier than I thought it would.
Tonight, I’m alone. It’s the first Christmas without my mother and as I sip on a comforting mix of hot espresso and hot chocolate that was made by the Flying M coffee shop, I can’t shake the profound sense of loss that envelops me. The laughter of families and the joy of friends celebrating together seem to echo in the hollow spaces of my heart. I’m bundled up, grateful for the warmth of my coat, but no amount of fabric can shield me from the chill of grief that seeps into my bones as I write this blog post.
The holiday lights are captivating yet they serve as a painful reminder of the joy that feels just out of reach. I watch as families dart around, their faces aglow with excitement and I can’t help, but think of the Christmases past—of baking cookies with my mother, of her laughter ringing through the house as we decorated the tree. Those moments now feel like distant memories, beautiful yet haunting, forever etched in my mind.
This season is supposed to be filled with joy, but for me, it’s a reminder of what I’ve lost. I find myself grappling with the duality of grief and celebration, trying to make sense of a world that feels both vibrant and painfully empty. It’s a struggle to allow myself to enjoy the festivities when my heart aches for the one person who made them truly special.
Yet, amidst the sorrow, I know that part of grieving is finding a way to honor those we’ve lost. So here I am, in this beautiful Winter Wonderland, allowing myself to feel the sadness while also embracing the memories that will forever live on in my heart. I remind myself that my mother would want me to find joy in the little things, even if it feels like a betrayal to my grief.
As I take in the sights and sounds of Indian Creek Plaza, I realize that it’s okay to feel lost and alone. It’s okay to sit with my sadness while also cherishing the love that remains. This holiday season, I choose to honor my mother’s memory by allowing myself to experience the beauty around me, even if it’s tinged with sorrow.
To all my readers, I wish you a Merry Christmas Eve Eve. May you find peace in your own memories and strength in the love that surrounds you. Let’s hold tight to those we’ve lost, knowing that their s
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