Missing Sunlight
As we approach winter solstice, the sun seems to disappear more quickly than ever. Yesterday, I didn’t leave the house until noon, and while running errands the day barely brightened. By the time I started home at 2:30pm, we were already heading into sunset.
I am not a fan of these dark days. They zap me of energy, leave me feeling unmotivated, and impact my mood. Today I suffered through a short period of the ‘winter blues’; feeling sad and weepy and alone. My mood was triggered by thoughts of those people in my family who I miss this time of year. I miss my parents of course, and I miss my kids too. I was watching a video on YouTube (the group Libera - a boys choir - singing Silent Night), and it made me remember Christmases of long ago.
When my dad would put the tree up (Dad always put the tree up), the task was always accompanied by Christmas music. He had a wide array of music, collected over the years, and he’d stack the turntable 3-4 albums high at a time. We’d listen to Johnny Mathis, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, Andy Williams, Bing Crosby and all the crooners of the time. Those classic numbers always make me remember my dad at Christmas.
Traditional Christmas hymns also bring memories of Dad and attending Christmas mass. When we were little, we’d go to church on Christmas morning, after opening our presents. As we got older, my dad started the tradition of attending mass on Christmas Eve. At first it was the 6pm mass, but as we got closer to teenhood, it became Midnight Mass. I loved going to church at midnight.
Our parish had two churches. There was the newer, more modern church, and there was the “old” church. The old church was built in 1870. I’m not sure if it’s still standing, as I’m fairly certain they stopped offering mass there due to structural problems some years back(?). The old church was hot in the summer time, as there was no ventilation system. Huge fans blew across the congregation. In the winter, it was always drafty. When the back door opened on a cold Christmas Eve night, the wind would rush around the church in a quick circle, blowing the stacks of programs and whipping our veils around our heads.
Mass at the old church was quite popular on Christmas Eve. There was always a choir accompanied by the pipe organ. You could feel the pew vibrating beneath you when the lower notes were hit. The voices of the choir echoed beautifully in the small space. Even in those days, I’d feel myself get choked up when they’d sing Silent Night or O Holy Night.
In those years of midnight mass, we’d come home and open our gifts after church. We’d stay up till the wee hours of the morning, drinking tea and eating cookies, and just enjoying each others company. I think my parents preferred the tradition of midnight mass because they got to sleep in on Christmas Day… Unless my mom was hosting Christmas dinner, in which case she’d only sleep a few hours before getting started on the meal. Mom worked so hard to make the holiday wonderful. And it was.
Despite the seasonal tears, I would much rather have memories of years gone by, than no memories at all.
