Monday, December 24, 2012

On Christmas Eve, Dinky Cars and Traditions-in-the-Making

A few weeks ago, this happened:

Since then, we've spoken of my brother many times. My parents were here last week and we stayed up too late, reminiscing about our best Christmas Eve EVER, as a Schillings family of four. It involved a ton of eating, drinking and present-opening. And laughter. Oh God, how we laughed.

Having children of my own brings a certain magic to the season, as I'm sure it does for so many of you. But memories of Christmas, 1999 are the sweetest ones to savour because a decade later, Andrew is gone.

So, on this special day, as families begin to gather in celebration for all that was and all that will be, I will think of Andrew and hope that he is watching over my sons from someplace warm and cozy and remembering Christmas of '99, too.

In the meantime, Luke and I are heading out to rummage for some last minute groceries...and some balloons.

In what I hope will become a yearly tradition, on Christmas Day, we will  release some balloons from Andrew's Garden, with our love and (maybe some more dinky cars) attached to their strings.

I have a feeling that he's been waiting...

Andrew with Baby Matthew, Christmas 2008

1 comment:

  1. When I was little I lost my grandfather. He was special to me. For some reason I thought Papa needed ice-cream. Every time I would visit the cemetery I would leave him pennies. Every time I would go back those pennies were gone, to me, proof that Papa was enjoying ice-cream.
    I don't get to the cemetery in Pickering all that often anymore, but when I do I still leave Papa and now Nana pennies for ice-cream. I suspect my kids think I'm crazy, but that's ok... it means more than flowers.

    For us as a family whenever we go on a family vacation we always bring back a souvenir for our son Gabriel. We take it up when we get home and put it on his headstone. To me it includes him in our everyday life. Just because someone we love is not physically in our life, it does not mean that they are "no longer" in our life, it just takes on a different form.

    Good for you letting your son still have that connection, and how sweet of him to remember his uncle.