The holidays are always a stressful time. Every family is busy planning a great party that will hopefully be remembered until the next year. There are certain traditions that go into each holiday. A lot of them you might not even realize exist, but when one is missing, its gap is extremely apparent.
Christmas Eve is one of the biggest holidays that my family celebrates. Ninety-five percent of my family that attends Christmas Eve is 100 percent Italian. You can imagine how loud the house must be, especially considering there are usually about 40 of us in attendance. While sometimes this can be annoying, it is also incredible that my whole family gathers together every year and catches up as if nothing has changed. That is, until this past Christmas Eve.
This past September one of our family members left us by his own hand. It doesn't feel like it was only four months ago; it feels like a year. Christmas Eve was Uncle John's holiday. He was the epitome of a good host. He ran around the whole night making sure everyone had enough drink or food in hand. He was the goofy uncle, the one that would tell hilarious stories and have everyone in the room hanging on to his every word. He was also the center of attention during our annual white-elephant gift exchange. This is a tradition strictly for those 18 and older, given some of the language and gifts that get passed around. I remember sitting with the rest of my underage cousins listening to all the laughter and yelling happening in the back room. I also remember my first white elephant, sitting next to my dad and watching my uncle orchestrating the entire event.
This past Christmas Eve is the first time we did not have the white elephant. It was too much "John" to have it. I can't speak for the rest of my family, but I know I was extremely anxious in the weeks leading up our Christmas Eve celebration. I was worried that everyone would try too hard to act normal. And my worries were confirmed. Christmas Eve came and went. We all ate, drank, laughed, and went home to our own beds and passed out. But not one person I interacted with brought up my uncle. Sure, conversations that happened off to the side certainly discussed him. But those were in secret. We might not have had the white-elephant exchange this year, but there was still a giant elephant sitting in the corner that everyone ignored. Considering how he passed away, I can understand why.
How can such a large family not mention one of their own who made the holiday what it was? It still seems crazy to me that the only time we talk about him is in secret. It is as if death is so taboo that we can only whisper about it out of fear, like we are characters in "Harry Potter" whispering about Voldemort.
I know my family. I know we are all hurting still, each in our own way. I know it is hard to talk about something so sad. We might be mad that he is gone so soon, but the holidays are a time for family and revisiting all of the good memories. And my uncle is an extremely important one. The first holiday after we lose someone is always the hardest. I know it will get easier as the years go on. Our pain will dull and we won't feel uncomfortable bringing him up. I just hope that this happens sooner rather than later.
