Traditions

Every family has a way of doing things. We get the tree a week before Christmas. I pack the cooler, you pack the car. You do the turkey, I do the stuffing. I wash, you dry. We alternate holidays between your family and mine. I go out with the kids for Halloween, you stay home and dish out. I go dancing, you go fishing. You chop wood and I stack the kindling. You drive, I hand out snacks – and a thousand more examples both personal and universal. What traditions did you and your spouse develop over the time that you were together?

These ways of being together often go unnamed. If you’ve been married a long time, you may not even give them a thought; so long have you been pulling together in tandem, you no longer even realize who is responsible for what. Getting ready for road trips, Peter used to say “We’re a well-oiled machine.” Each knew their jobs and busily went about them in unstated rhythm with the other. 

I didn’t realize how seamless it was until after he died and it took me more than twice the time than it had before to pack the car for a trip, with Peter’s cardinal/redbird messenger perched in a tree above the car the whole time singing his sweet song “You’re doing it wrong, you’re doing it wrong!” I hadn’t realized just how much even getting ready for a simple road trip would be affected by losing Peter.  

The painful truth is, losing someone close to you changes everything about the way you do things. It changes the big traditions like holidays (see ‘Special Days’) and it changes the every day habits and patterns you’ve come to rely on. 

In the last few years, I’ve discovered that there are different choices about what to do with the traditions you’ve established. Here’s how they seem to me.  

Keeping the Tradition – But with a Hole

Peter always was a huge part of getting our Christmas tree. In the early days, we cut our own at the Christmas Tree farm and always looked for one with a nest in it. Later on, a trip to the local nursery with two small children made more sense, with everyone offering their opinion and agreeing on our final choice. Then Peter would perform the magnificent feat of lifting the tree onto the roof of our car and fastening it with a network of ropes and knots that only he understood while we all waited in the car. 

Fast forward to the first Christmas after he died and the girls and I are at the same nursery, having the same lively discussion about the merits of this tree versus that one; we get the tree wrapped and ready to hoist – whereupon I burst into tears. Big melt down in the car until I ask for help and eventually get the tree on the car and drive home to the sound of Christmas carols on the radio, punctuated by sniffles from both front and back seats. 

The next year I thought about what had happened the previous year. Of course I still wanted to get a Christmas tree, but maybe not have the accompanying meltdown? I girded my loins and gave myself a talking to, grabbed my gloves, put on my raccoon hat and headed out. Year two – success! I got the tree on top of the car myself and the girls cheered! We are always going to want a Christmas tree and I will always think about how Peter used to do it, but I’m not going to let that ruin the tradition of the tree for us. 

A few years before Peter died, we lost our two aged cats within a fairly short time. It was the girls’ first brush with loss and that Christmas, I asked them if we should put up Tom and Jenny’s stockings? They said we should. We agreed that we would buy their favourite treats and stuff their stocking with them (in addition to what Santa would bring of course) and after Christmas, give them to “less fortunate cats” to quote my youngest.  

We decided to do the same with Peter’s/Daddy’s stocking – because “He’s still part of the family” as my eldest daughter said. Yes, it’s a reminder of the hole that his loss made in our lives. But each year I have been surprised to find a small note to Daddy, or his favourite candy or a drawing just for him put there quietly. It’s a tradition we seem to want to keep. 

Modify

Peter was the jam-maker in the family. Each year he turned out wonderful jars of ‘Sweetie-Petey’s ‘Jazzy Razzy’ or ‘Labour of Love Blackcurrant’ (because you have to clean both ends) – so after he passed, the girls and I decided to continue the tradition. That first summer, we made tons of all the jams he used to make. It was a big undertaking and felt very much like something we did in his honour. 

The following year, I asked the girls if they wanted to make ‘Daddy’s jam.’ One did and one didn’t. So two of us set to work. The next year it seemed only I was interested (I’m sure it’s only co-incidence that this dovetailed with the onset of teenage years) and as I started to get ready for canning season, I thought about what I would make. I tried some ‘Christmas Cran-Raspberry’ that a friend had shared with me and it was delicious! I made ‘Peachy Blue’ with wild blueberries and peaches.  I tried an experiment with a lime and lemon I found in the fridge and ‘Strawberry Lemon Lime’ became my new favourite. When I gifted some to a friend, she said “Oh my, the student has become the Master!”  I realized over time that something that may have started out as ‘Peter’s memorial jam-making’ had evolved into a genuine hobby of mine, replete with memories of him, but also imbued with my own creativity. A tradition, but with a new twist (of lemon and lime!)

Letting Go 

Peter’s favourite activity, hands down  – was fishing. It was something he had joyously shared with a previous generation of kids (including his son Mike and his pals when they were just 8 years old – and their children as they grew up) and something he had happily introduced to our girls – one of his last gifts to Gemma was a pair of hip waders for her 9^th birthday. He couldn’t wait to help them get their first rainbow trout in one of his favourite spots on the Ganaraska River.

When it became apparent that he was not going to be around to take them fishing, he asked family and friends to do it for him. And after he died, a dear friend offered to teach them fly-fishing and was amazed at their ability. I felt certain that Peter’s wish would be fulfilled. 

So a year after he died, I joined the fishing club he had belonged to for decades. I got a good friend of his to come over and rig up the rods and off we went to his favourite pools. Even though I know next to nothing about fishing, I was determined to continue his tradition of taking ‘his girls’ fishing. A minute or two after we began, I noticed my eldest had taken a couple of casts and was sitting quietly on the river bank. As I approached I saw there were tears in her eyes. The youngest hadn’t touched her rod. 

I asked if they wanted to keep fishing and two small heads shook ‘No.’ “It’s just not the same without Daddy.” Of course it isn’t – what was I thinking? We packed up our gear and off we went to a teahouse in the nearby town, a decidedly ‘mother-daughter’ thing to do. And we haven’t gone fishing since. The girls will always remember that their father took them fishing, and perhaps one day, someone will be amazed at how their ‘first-time’ fishing girlfriend puts their fly right in the pool they choose. But for now, it’s just too hard.      

There are things that are so inextricably tied to your beloved that continuing to do them is either painful or impossible. Or they could just be things that you don’t like! After a while, I just cancelled the sports channels, because… sports are not our thing. We eat less meat, we don’t go out to Swiss Chalet or Kelsey’s, but instead my adventuresome kids make homemade mochi and onigiri or go out for bubble tea, Persian food, noodles or Shanghai street dumplings (baozi). As painful as it might be to realize, some traditions die with your darling. Hold them close in memory, give thanks for what was given, and then gently let them go.

New Traditions

The first March break almost a year after Peter died, we were lucky enough to be invited along on a friend’s annual visit to family in ski country. Skiing is something we learned as adult beginners and if truth be told, we never advanced to expert or even good intermediate skiers. But we made sure the kids had lessons and experienced the humbling feeling of watching our young children become far better at something than we were. Then Peter developed a sore knee (a flare-up of an old fishing injury jumping off a riverbank) and his skiing days were done.  

Going on that skiing holiday was our first real adventure as a family without Peter and to our surprise, we had a wonderful time. Our hosts were so gracious and kind and the skiing was so incredible that we have all grown to love skiing and have become far better skiers. It’s now a yearly event and a wonderful new tradition for our family of three. So whether it’s trying new dishes, sharing new interests or creating new memories, as you live your life going forward, new traditions will inevitably be formed. I hope you embrace them.

What traditions do you want to keep, need to change, choose to release or are eager to discover?