We’re nudging closer to the end of the year, a time bountiful with religious and spiritual observances.
I celebrate Christmas. Last year I spent the holiday alone. I’ve been widowed for five years and my family of origin live, respectively, three, six, and seven provinces west from my home in Nova Scotia. I also moved to my community of Salmon River, near Truro, only three years ago, so I’m still creating new friends and social circles.
All the patter I told myself made sense, and yet, sitting in my living room, alone, while around me lights twinkled on my small balsam fir, and Alexa’s offerings of British choirboys keening their joy made for some peculiar moments.
Happily, I had a pile of gifts to open from my family, most of whom I’d speak to that day. I also had festive food, wood for my stove, and the fine company of my Sheltie-girl, Franki. I was raised to count my blessings, and did so.
The evening concluded with a hopeful thought sent skyward, that Christmas 2025 might be … different.
During the holidays, I also thought about a beloved friend of mine from Cape Breton because thinking about her always lifts my chin.
My favourite memory was how she used to greet friends and strangers alike, with a hearty, “How are you today?” She smiled at you as though you were the best thing she’d seen for a year at least; the cleverness of you, for merely existing!
It was the most disarming greeting I’ve ever known. How was I faring that very day — not yesterday, not lately, not the long-ago past. No, how was I today, the very moment that Sharon Urquhart the Hairdresser from Grand Anse posed the question.
And she listened to your answer.
Invariably, irresistibly, I responded that I was well, even if I’d been feeling low. It was as though Sharon offered an opportunity to seize wellness, that complicated and multi-faceted reality, and hold it close to your heart. It was one of Sharon’s many gifts, to switch out dark for light, coldness for warmth, with four simple words, and the force of her sunny, questing nature.
Like all of us, Sharon had difficult days. But somehow, she rode out those times with grace, like a rider sitting through a powerful series of bucks and twists from their mount, intended to unseat.
Life didn’t unseat Sharon, but unfortunately, cancer did, back in 2010.
That Christmas of 2024 I didn’t let a solo holiday unseat me, either. Franki and I had our special meals, keened along with the choirboys, read books, took walks, and fashioned a satisfying Christmas Day.
In contrast to the relentless barrage of Perfect Family messages we receive in December, holiday gatherings, or the lack thereof, can be hard. The widowed and bereaved, or the just-divorced, the working poor, or families dealing with addictions or disease — a holiday doesn’t change these realities and will often underscore the hurts and loneliness some are experiencing. Perfect Families may exist, television and the movies tell us so, but most of us have families who are more complex, face down tough realities, and live and love more creatively than the simplistic figures created by media.
And we love them for their fortitude and blessed singularities.
Perhaps what matters over the holidays, or any time, really, is, “How are you today?” The cleverness of you, for existing, riding out the hard times, finding contentment in that flawed and marvelous life you call your own.
This Christmas, Franki and I won’t be alone. We’re glad for that.
On Christmas Day, I’ll think about friends and family, with love and gratitude. I’ll also be thinking, with tenderness, about those who listen, and leave legacies of light.