Remembering Is How Love Stays Alive

Some objects remember for us.

In the winter - particularly December - the air is heavy with activity and festivities that both carry and create memories. But even outside of formal celebration, seasonal shifts have a way of bringing certain memories closer to the surface.

Every winter, like many people, boxes and totes and bins get pulled out of storage in our house. These containers hold decorations of the winter holidays. And every winter (after Thanksgiving here in the states), I crack open the big container of ornaments. Some of these are the lovely brightly colored kind that come in large sets in your favorite big box stores. But then there are the special ones. The ones that came from grandparents' collections and passed down. Some that were presents made in girl scout meetings or elementary school art class to be placed in a stocking for a parent. And some are the ones that remember for us - a time, a place, a loved one - anchoring their presence to the season so they continue to spend it with us.

Not all memories are of those who are no longer with us in the physical. Sometimes the memories are of places where we no longer reside, friends who live far away, people we've grown apart from, eras and trends that marched on with the passing of time. But each one helps to shape not only the celebrations and observances of the season - they also shape us as individuals.

I have a special blue jingle bell ornament, with a pretty crystal cherub on top, that I hang for my mom, who passed 10 years ago. Another cherished ornament is one with a paw print and the name Cinder, for our beloved German Shepherd and my familiar and "heart dog" - it's glittery and bright pink, Cinder's signature color. When these are on our tree, these ladies are in our home, gathered with us still. They may be conspicuous by their physical absence, but the stories of them fill our conversations, and their energy fills our hearts.

But that's the beauty of remembering, isn't it? It ensures that those "dearly departeds" are still in our celebration. It keeps the “rad” energy of Christmas 1986 alive in the present. It drives tradition forward into the future.

So maybe this season - or this threshold - is an invitation.

An invitation to tell the stories. To sit with the memories that once felt ordinary and later became priceless. Remembering isn’t about staying behind.

It’s one of the ways love stays alive - carried forward, changed, but still present.