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.

As I stepped outside today, a strong memory of my grandfather came over me. And I was grateful for this:

Whenever he would come in from the cold, especially on a snowy day, he would say, “I’m wind-whipped, I’m wind-whipped, do you hear me?”

His phrase was family legend. And I am sad that I had forgotten but glad it returned to me today. I myself feel wind-whipped. And, I hear you Grandpa Joe.

No Christmas would be complete without my brother Johnny and I watching “March of the Wooden Soldiers” on Christmas Eve. This 1934 Laurel and Hardy movie was a holiday tradition in my family. Johnny and I began watching it together as children and this continued throughout Johnny’s life. We both enjoyed the fantastic Mother Goose characters that were inhabited in Toyland. We both loved Laurel and Hardy, the bumbling toy makers employed by Santa Claus. At the end of the movie, the Wooden Soldiers march to the rescue to save Toyland from the evil Barnabas and his bogeymen. This tradition has continued in my family. Every Christmas since Johnny passed, I leave an empty spot on the sofa with a gin and tonic on the table. I believe Johnny will be there with us.