When my husband and I were first married, he began to buy me a box of Chocolate Covered Cherries every year to wrap and place under the Christmas Tree for me. Even in years when we didn't have much money, and our budget was limited to only doing stocking stuffers and/or a $5 to $10 limit of small items from Dollar Tree to give each other for Christmas, he always made sure that one of the items was a box of chocolate covered cherries. This tradition continued, year after year, even in years when we were not financially struggling.
This past Christmas was my first year without my husband. He was no longer here to carry on this tradition. Last year, however, someone took my son shopping to buy gifts for me for Christmas. Knowing this tradition, my son also placed a wrapped box of chocolate covered cherries under the tree. This year, however, no one took him shopping. So I realized that this year would be the first year without a wrapped box of chocolate covered cherries under the tree.
When I have entered Walmart this year, repeatedly passing the display of chocolate covered cherries, it has been challenging not to feel sad. My mind has reflected back to times when other traditions faded away, or rather, were suddenly ripped away.
As a young 13 year old, entering foster care for the first time, my first Christmas was suddenly missing the tree my mother lovingly decorated, proudly displaying all of the handcrafted photo ornaments of our childhood. I could no longer enjoy the smell of her no-bake cookies, and I could no longer join her in singing her favorite Christmas song, "Silver Bells." Family game night, where we were able to stay up until at least midnight, was no longer a thing, and the tradition of my dad allowing us to pick out and open one gift on Christmas Eve was also now gone. Even my parents and my sister themselves were suddenly gone from my life this first Christmas in foster care. In the blink of an eye, everything as I once knew it had changed, the grief of which can only be understood by those who have experienced it.
By the Christmas in which I turned 16, I found myself living with my grandmother, who I adored. She never had money to buy much, gift wise, for Christmas. However, she knew I loved chocolate covered cherries, and bought a box as a gift for me that Christmas. The next year, she, again, gifted me a box of chocolate covered cherries. Every year thereafter, she would hand me a gift of a box of chocolate covered cherries. Just like that, a new tradition was born.
My husband had picked up the torch of this annual tradition, and my son had tried to emulate it as well. This year, a torch of a tradition that had been carried for 32 years was beginning to fade. So, one day, while I was in the store, with grief in my heart, and tears in my eyes as I handed the box to the cashier, I bought the cherries. There will, once again, be a wrapped box of chocolate covered cherries under the Christmas tree.
Comments