I have been thinking a lot about traditions. Today is December 2. One week and one day after the first major holiday since Dad died. Every tradition he shared with our family has taken a whole new meaning for me. I think I am clinging to traditions more than I ever did before.
What makes a happy family? It is one little memory stacked on top of another. Every memory has a feeling attached to it. Each of these feelings and memories tie me to the family that shared those experiences with me.
My memory isn't perfect. I can't remember every holiday or every gift. I can't remember the conversations we had around the Thanksgiving table. But when I share the traditions from growing up with my family I get little glimmers of memories that I forgot. Every little tradition reminds me of the happiest holiday memories. All those little memories, remind me how blessed I am. Every little tradition ties my families together.
With each of the traditions that I share with my children, I find myself sharing those sweet memories with them.
It has been six months since Dad's death. Every tradition brings me a little closer to healing. I put my snow flakes up a little early this year, I wanted to remember.
