Meditations on December

Here we are in the countdown to Christmas and I wonder if someone else out there may have the December blues. Mostly, I love the holiday, the lights, the snow, the music, the turkey and pie and the family get-together.

But....I just turned fifty-five and my youngest son is sixteen, and old friends are far away these days, and the holiday always brings the wish, fierce at times, that my oldest, Jamie, could have been around to come home and share it with us. As a teen, he used to pretend to dislike the fuss and go around saying "Bah, humbug!!"

He was a bit of an anarchist and genuinely hated the gap between rich and poor that Christmas highlights with such cheerfully cruel clarity. In a perfect world, money or lack of it would not determine who has a good meal and presents under a tree. Still, for all that, he loved his niece and nephew, his grandparents, shortbread cookies, turkey dinner and good music.

He would try to call home around Christmas from Victoria, the city by the sea where he spent his last years. Always asking after Nanny and Grampie, pretending things were ok with him. Later, after we lost him, I found out he'd been among those on the streets, one of the addicted and lost who get Christmas dinner at the Salvation Army or another charity. It's not what any mother wishes for, is it? Taking a wreath to the cemetery means a lot, but how I wish he could join us for one more celebration.

Still, when the family gathers by the fireplace, there will be good cheer and laughter and pretty tree lights after dinner. When we toast "the ones with us and gone" he's one of those who will be in the family's thoughts this holiday.

As I write this, Gregorian chant fills the room with beauty and melancholy. If he were here, he'd tell me to put on some music to liven things up - Stevie Ray Vaughn or the Grateful Dead - and I will celebrate, to honour his memory too.

Merry Christmas to you and yours, whoever and wherever you are.