We share many of their positive traits equally making us fairly independent people!
Sunday Scribblings prompt "Traditions" brought to mind a song from Fiddler on the Roof; hours spent singing songs from that adored movie. If I were a rich (wo)man Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum……
I have discussed many family traditions on my blog, without addressing my necessity to preserve them. Traditions are the glue that holds my family together. You all know how glue can be sticky at times, unruly too, but when it works, it can hold everything together.
Memories with tradition have carried me through so many disparaging times. My brother and I cling to those rituals; replicate them for our children, trying to protect those comforts we grapple to since our parent’s early departure. Orphaned in our early thirties was way too young and too painful. They missed pivotal moments in our lives where we could have used their wisdom, comfort, and positive affirmations. It was sad beyond words.
Mom’s shortbreads, dad whistling while installing outdoor lights, memories that warm our hearts during the holidays. The first time I heard my son-in-law whistling as he strung the lights a tear came to my eye. I knew my daughter had the right guy.
I bath daily with the same soap mom bought in the sixties, bee and flower sandal wood soap. My son in law loves it too. We search many stores to find it, often clearing them out in effort to stock up! Just so I can have that comforting scent reminiscent of my childhood.
Last Christmas my nephew reminded my brother to be sure to play Nat King Coles Christmas song as they walked down the stairs in the morning to open presents, (on their new traditional Christmas, a few days before the 25th, because of divorce). A song my dad always played or sang during the season. My brother works hard all year long, over indulges his children, all for that one moment, to watch his kids open gifts while that traditional Christmas song plays. For in that one moment, all the guilt of being divorced is suspended while he’s transferred back in time, to that feeling, when being a child was the only responsibility he had, with mom and dad carrying his woes.
This is my blood, the five of us last year.
My daughter, me, my brother, niece and my nephew with his monkey grin!
We’ve added a few new traditions, opening pajamas Christmas Eve, going to at least one Christmas movie in the theatre, Rolo cookies, the big family dinner a few days before Christmas with brownies for my nephew, and raspberry desert for the rest. My brother receives his yearly calendar with photos of his family, his favorite gift. For me the beauty of blogging is to preserve a history of words and photos to inform and comfort our children when we’re gone. Sadly we hate to think of such things, but we know too well the pain of losing parents way before we should have. My brother honors the fact that I am blogging about my life, peppered with bits of his.Knowing his kids may one day find solace in my writings.
If I can produce one special moment to transfer our children back to a time where the security of family love, peace and joy reign over the tough times, then I have truly lived up to my mothers tradition, of taking exceptional care of her kids!