Bittersweet

I love Christmas―decorating, buying gifts, seasonal scents, carols, baking special foods, and the generally happy attitude of most people. It can pretty much be summed up in Luke 2:14 "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." But it's also a little bittersweet for me...I miss my husband. While that's a daily sentiment, I particularly miss him at Christmas.

I begin decorating right after Halloween. The outside décor is completed on the first semi-warm day, but not turned on until closer to Thanksgiving. The inside of my home is fair game, but I still don't equal the eagerness of my daughter-in-law Erin. Her tree would be decorated in September, but my son won't let Trick-or-Treaters come to the door on Halloween and see a Christmas display.

Every year as I decorate my tree, I inspect each ornament and remember something about it. Those given to me by my husband are especially valued, like the gold plated, ornate ornament shaped as a Christmas tree. On one of his rare out of town business/training trips during a late summer decades ago, he found this special gift for me. A front, prominent location on the tree is always reserved to hang this keepsake. It's just one of such thoughtful ornaments Steve bought for me over the years. 

And, of course, I make a point of hanging those I bought for Steve, others that he especially loved, and even a few from our first Christmas together―mostly hand-painted wooden ornaments from a kit. They reside in the back of the tree now, but Steve always insisted there should be a few such mementos to display. 

There are also special ornaments purchased for my sons (yes, they have been offered to them for their own trees), or ones they gave to us when they were little. These are augmented now by some other cherished ornaments made or given to me by them and their wives.

I also have a set of six old world Santas that grace an end table. Steve saw these in a store and knew I had to have them as a pre-Christmas surprise. And then there are the stockings (too many for the mantle) so the rest are hung from a special stocking holder. 

My sons, daughters-in-law, and grandson's stockings take precedence over the fireplace; but mine, Steve's, our border collie/Springer spaniel mix pet (who has been gone for almost two decades and shared the name of a daughter-in-law), and my grandson's first Christmas stocking grace the bottom display along with two whimsical characters. Only the five above, and mine on the bottom, will be filled on Christmas Eve, but the others: Steve and Katie's (the dog), will always be remembered. There is, however, a chance that Maddox's second stocking may be filled too. It appears his grandma finds great pleasure in buying for him and can't seem to stop―one more tradition in the making! 

(Look for a photo soon to be uploaded on Facebook.)