Originally posted on December 17, 2019
Written on Thanksgiving
The welcome home week is the 5 days preceding the Thanksgiving Day holiday. I call it this because it is the time of year when many families and friends, although dispersed throughout the universe make their way HOME. Wherever that place may be, whomever that place may contain. A time to be with the people who mean the most to you, in the place you are most comfortable. It is the beginning of the long winter holiday season, racing toward the end of the year and bright new beginnings.
They say that home is where the heart is, for the most part I suppose this is true. As I have grown older I have come to notice there is a time in everyone’s lives, when they can no longer go “home”. As we age and the elders of our families begin to pass, the places that we called home sometimes pass along with them. I am not saying there is no place that is home, or a place that has that same level of comfort. It just becomes, no longer the same. The last 2 years for me have really come to highlight this more than ever having lost both my mother and little sister last year. I never realized how much a part of HOME they both were for me.
Trying to keep alive traditions of that former home are our way of remembering and preserving a feeling. A certain sense of warmth and acceptance, a place where the troubles of the world don’t matter. With the preservation of such traditions sometimes comes a certain amount of sadness. Knowing the people who once shared in them are no longer with us. Sometimes making the holidays close to unbearable for several years to come after such a loss. Sometimes something as simple as a pig can fill the eyes.
I have also come to realize, that at some point perhaps we become home for the next generation. While we want so to pass these traditions on, sometimes we need to modify the existing or perhaps create new ones to share with those to whom we are home. We cannot live for the dead, we must live for the living, for they are the ones who need us now. It does not mean we have forgotten. It means that they have taught us, and left us with the knowledge and responsibility to be home for the next generation.