Keeping Christmas Traditions Alive

When I was younger, my mom and I decorated for Christmas together. It was always on the day after Thanksgiving. Times have changed. People decorate earlier. Things are different. But, I lost my mom when I was fifteen - so I try to keep some of those traditions alive so her memory stays close during the holidays.

I have kept some of her decor from when I was young. This particular Santa I had always found so ugly. I never wanted to put it up. But, my mother made this - so it goes up every single year in my home. I have some of her ornaments and other small decorations. Some things have broken over the years, but I try to keep as much as I can because it reminds me of her - of my childhood traditions with my mom.

Grief doesn’t show up the way it used to. It’s quieter now, but deeper. It settles in my chest when the lights go on at dusk. It tightens my throat in grocery store aisles. It reminds me of the advice I still want, the reassurance I still need, the version of me she never got to meet. Losing my mom so young taught me how fragile joy is—and how intentional it must be. My Christmas now reflects that lesson. It’s smaller. Softer. Rooted in warmth instead of performance.

Keeping these traditions isn’t about recreating my childhood. It’s about honoring the love that carried me into adulthood. She’s present in the way I nurture my dogs, the way I decorate my home, the way I sit with hard feelings instead of running from them. She’s in the patience I’ve learned, the boundaries I’ve built, the quiet resilience I didn’t know I had.

Christmas didn’t stay the same. I didn’t either. Love adapts. It finds new forms. It lives in the details.

And every year, in the glow of soft lights and familiar songs, I carry her with me—right where I am now.