An Early Celebration

This last Sunday we met with my side of the family to celebrate Christmas. We alternate years between my husband’s family and mine. This year we are going to his family so we got together early with mine to celebrate before we go our separate ways.

Christmas is an interesting holiday for me. I never celebrated Christmas, having been raised in communist Cuba, so I don't have any old traditions or childhood memories of Christmas with my family. My first Christmas was celebrated in Venezuela, a little bit over a month after I left my country and most of my family behind. I was 16 years old.

Since then Christmas always brings me feelings of nostalgia, of missing something. In addition, I lost my mom, almost six years ago, exactly 22 days after Christmas, so this adds even more to my feelings, I feel Christmas starts a countdown to the fateful day we lost her.

I love the season, I love the festivities that come with it, I love the giving and receiving that takes place. I specially enjoy being surrounded by family and loved ones. But I can't say it's a joyous occasion for me; it's bittersweet. Sweet because of what I know I have, bitter because of what I know I'm missing.