Jody was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS) in October 1987 just three months after we had met. The initial impact was severe and he was unable to continue working. With Christmas approaching, Jody wanted to give me a special gift. However, he had very little money to do so. It didn’t matter to me. Having him in my life was gift enough for me.

A few days before Christmas, Jody took out an old, battered envelope, and handed it to me. “Before you open it,” he said, “I want to explain.” He told me the envelope contained something he had treasured and had intended for what he called his first “real” home. With tears in his eyes, he said, “I can’t buy you a gift, but I want you to have this.”

I gently slid the contents from the envelope. There were four Art Deco prints of covers from Vanity Fair magazine dating between 1916 and 1921. The prints were stunning in their simplicity, but, more so, was the faith Jody showed in entrusting them to me.

We shed a few tears and hugs before I slid the prints back into their envelope. I told Jody to keep them safe until we found a place of our own. We finally moved in together in early 1990. The first pictures we hung were those four prints. They still adorn the living room wall and constantly remind me of the greatest Christmas gift. And, of course, I look at them, and say “Merry Christmas, Jody.”

I open up my Facebook and there they are. All of the memories of my brother’s posts stare back at me. He posted everything from birthdays to cultural celebrations, to singing songs about Puerto Rico and, of course, Christmas, among many others. Honestly, I love them and I hate them. I hate them because he’s no longer with us. We no longer see his videos or posts wishing us a Merry Christmas. But I love them because that is all I have left. All I have is the memories, his love, and for now I have to settle for that until we meet again. Merry Christmas in heaven big brother. You will live in my heart forever.

I am thinking about my Grandpa, and how much he loved watching Seinfeld, back in its original airtimes. He was so sad when the series ended. Every year on “Festivus,” he’d comedically “air his grievances,” but his grievances were mild and weird: like my mother not putting enough ketchup on his fries, or how much he hated a certain commercial on TV. We should have all aired our grievances more strongly at COVID. Maybe it would have helped.

So here comes Christmas. The fifth one waking up without my husband Mike watching his children open presents and now his grandchildren. He missed the birth of 8 of them however I am truly blessed to be surrounded by my WTF group. Found this group searching for support during these dark days of Covid when everyone was isolating.

The WTF’s have been there for all holidays, anniversaries, births, etc etc. I don’t know what I would do without them. We cry together, laugh together, and hope that one day we will all meet in person. Covid was cruel but it brought these amazing people into my life

Merry Christmas to all, and Mike, till we meet again …

Every year for as long as I can remember, at Christmas my grandma made No Bake Peanut Butter Oatmeal Cookies. It was a staple in our home. Every Christmas. Once my grandma wasn’t able to make them anymore, my mom started to make them. When my kids were young, I would make the cookies for both my home and my moms (and gave them out as gifts like my grandma and mom did). My son Donovan loved these cookies. He enjoyed them A LOT! So when he moved out on his own, I would make the cookies and mail them to him. It was one of the highlights to my Christmas. He even asked me to make some for his best friend and I would mail them to him as well. Every year till Donovan passed away of Covid 9/29/2021. The first Christmas after that, I didn’t DO Christmas at all. I felt so guilty not making those cookies. For the first time since my son’s death I made the cookies for both my daughter AND Donovan’s best friend. These are so special to me, the memories of a long tradition that I can now continue (I hope- sometimes my heart just can’t take some memories). I did it this year. I know Donovan is proud of me for doing so. I love and miss you my babyboy.