NL·Point of View

A heavy heart at the Christmas table: It's not always the most wonderful time of the year

December is a month filled with light and cheer. But, for contributor Wanita Bates — and so many others — there is always something missing.

When thoughts turn to loved ones who have died, this time of year can be difficult

Wanita Bates reflects on friends and family who have passed away, and how difficult the Christmas season can be. (Karen Duff Walters)

December is a month that is filled with light and cheery sentiments.

But, for me — and so many others — there is always something missing.

My happy personality steps up to protect my sad soul. I'm a Celtic melancholic.  

There is no other time of the year when I feel this heaviness upon my chest, how it weighs down my heart until I feel it will crack.

When thoughts turn to loved ones who have died, is this really the most wonderful time of the year?

Here's a scene: It's Christmas at my Gram's in the Laurentian Mountains.

This year, in whatever form loss and sadness come to you, take them in. Hold the feeling tight, and be sad.

The large rectangular blue table has standing room only. There's Grandpa Smith at the head of the table and Gram scurries around putting dishes filled with food on the table. The smells are great inside this tiny farmhouse.

My younger sister Maxine is standing across from me behind her two kids, Nghia and Baird who are sat at the table. They make me smile.

There's Grandpa and Granny Bates sitting together at the other end of the table. I look over near the door and there are Aunt Enid and Uncle Dunc. Gram's sisters, Irene, Twyla, Lila and Junia are on the settee with heads bent whispering about someone.

I think I see Bette and Don Duff in the living room and they're chatting with Sister Eugenie who has a squish hold on our little dog Lucky. In the corner, on the gold couch are Kate Bride and on the floor, her Newfoundland dog, Newman.

I open my eyes and realize my ghosts have returned for Christmas. It's not all merry and bright. Christmas can be bah-humbug for many!

It's part of the seasonal mix of nostalgia and longing for the Christmases of past, melancholia, fake merriness and the thoughts of everyone you've ever loved and lost.

Mix it all up and you've got the holiday blues. Huge dollops of sadness and aching that wrap around you like a winter coat.

The soundtrack of life

Now let's add the soundtrack. What about the biggest-selling single in the history of recorded music ever? It's White Christmas, a song Irving Berlin wrote in 1942.

I'm not dreaming that this song carries great sadness. It has nothing to do with weather. It's about love and loss. In 1928, Irving Berlin's three-week-old son died early on Christmas morning. Every year after that, on Christmas Day, he and his wife, Ellin, would visit the baby's grave in the Bronx.

As the years pass and I grow older, the more chairs I'll need for my family and friends who have left us. I'm filled with broken-hearted love, and know they're only there when I close my eyes.

This year, in whatever form loss and sadness come to you, take them in. Hold the feeling tight, and be sad.   

Be grateful for your life.

Be gentle with yourself.

Do what you need to do, whether that be stay home, read a book or go out for a walk.

You are all you have. You are all you need.

Sadness and joy!

Special family photos of Wanita Bates's grandmothers, her great-grandfathers, great-aunts and uncles, and her sister. (Wanita Bates)

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Wanita Bates

Contributor

Wanita Bates is a freelance writer, photographer and broadcaster in St. John's. She has won national and international awards for her work.