Tag: holidays

The Weight and the Warmth of June 19th

by Mothersense, posted in This Life


The calendar tells us that Friday, June 19th is Juneteenth—a day designated for collective reflection, freedom, and celebration. But for me, the date always pulls me backward into a deeply personal history. It forces a quiet pause in the middle of summer. It rewinds the clock to 2019, to a road trip to Louisiana, and to a room filled with a heavy, holy kind of love.
June 19th was my precious Uncle John’s birthday. For probably twenty years or more, if you asked him his age, he’d grin and tell you he was “39 and holding.” But on that specific Wednesday in 2019, time was finally catching up. My sisters and I traveled down to see him, knowing we were stepping into a celebration that was also a final, fragile goodbye. He was about to be transitioned to comfort care.
The air in the room was heavy. We each took a turn to have a moment alone with him. When my turn came, I leaned in close. I leaned into the space between this world and whatever comes next, and I whispered into his ear that it was okay to go. I told him that Jeff would take care of me now. I’m not entirely sure how aware he was in that moment, but whispering those words into the quiet of the room was a balm for my own aching heart.
Then, the priest arrived to perform the anointing of the sick. Because Uncle John was a deacon, he shared a long, deeply rooted history with the priest—a brotherhood of faith and service. Yet, in the middle of all that sorrow, a strange and beautiful thing happened. The priest looked at me, knew exactly who I was, and called me by my name. “Emeline’s daughter,” he recognized. Uncle John had woven stories of me into his life and friendships long before those final days. He had carried me in his conversations for years, just as he carried me in his heart.
I still sit with that moment. I think about it every June 19th, right before the anniversary of his passing on June 20th. I look up at the sky and whisper back to him, hoping with everything I have that I am making him proud.
The Magic of a Louisiana Kitchen
When the grief settles into something softer, it usually leads me straight to the stove.
Truthfully, I was blessed with a family of cooks. Uncle John and Aunt Mertie weren’t the only ones who let me sit and pepper them with a million questions while they worked. But being in those Louisiana kitchens? That was a different kind of magic entirely.
Growing up, learning from Mom or Granny had its own rhythm, rooted in the familiar comfort of daily life. But stepping into Uncle John and Aunt Mertie’s kitchen felt like entering a sacred, vibrant sanctuary of flavor and storytelling. The humidity, the slow simmer of a roux, the effortless dance between them as they threw together dishes that tasted like pure love—it was an education in hospitality. They didn’t do it through formal lessons; they taught me simply by letting me exist in their space, answering every curious question a young girl could dream up.
To pass down a legacy is to answer the questions of the curious girl standing by the counter, watching you create.
God, I miss them. I miss the laughter, the Louisiana warmth, and the safe harbor of their home. But every time I replicate a flavor, test the seasoning, or cook with that patient, soul-filled instinct they modeled for me, they are right there.
So this Friday, while the world celebrates, I’ll be holding a quiet space for the deacon who was forever 39, for the mother who came before me, and for the beautiful, heartbreaking privilege of having people in our lives who are this terribly hard to lose.
Happy Birthday, Uncle Johnny. I hope the kitchen in heaven is everything you ever wanted.

Christmas Togetherness: Embracing Love and Laughter

by Mothersense, posted in This Life

Christmas This Year

This Christmas season started off a bit heavy for me. I’ll be honest — I was sad for quite a bit, pretty much right up until our family’s Christmas Eve celebration.

That night, I sat at the end of the kitchen table and turned my head toward the living room as the littles opened their gifts. The sound that filled the house — the giggles, the pure laughter of children — there truly isn’t a better sound in the world. I teared up for a moment because that right there is exactly why I came.

I thought to myself, Mom and Daddy would be proud. They must be smiling down on us, because this—this togetherness, this joy—is all they ever wanted for us: to be together, to be present in each other’s lives, and to genuinely enjoy it.

Once the kids finished opening their gifts, it was the adults’ turn to shine as we mingled and prepared for our “Chinese Christmas” gift exchange. It was a blast — there were surprises, steals, laughter, and that wonderful mix of chaos and cheer that only family can create.

Then my sisters introduced a new game — one where you pass a gift left or right as a silly story is told, customized with everyone’s names. Each player put in a dollar, and a “Golden Ticket” prize would go to the winner, collecting the cash from everyone’s entry. It was silly and fun and full of laughter, just the way it should be.

My youngest got a few really thoughtful gifts this year, and at one point, he realized he only has two more years left of being “one of the kids.” That hit me — it made me pause and reflect. I have seven kids I call my own: five I gave birth to and two girls I’ve loved like my own for years. Four of them now have incredible partners — kind, caring, compassionate individuals who truly see who my children are and love them, flaws and all.

Even with a few behind-the-scenes hiccups (let’s just say there was a grocery order debacle, a brief moment of running out of gas, and yes, my husband losing his job), it was still a blessed Christmas.

Because at the end of the day, being surrounded by love, laughter, and the people who matter most — that’s what Christmas is all about.

Holiday Blues: Finding Light in Dark Times

by Mothersense, posted in This Life

The Perfect Storm

As we wind down the year and the days grow shorter, the holiday season settles in like a familiar rhythm—lights, music, gatherings, the scent of good food, and memories tucked into every corner. For many, it’s a time of joy. But for just as many, it’s the beginning of a perfect storm.

Longer nights. Dreary weather. A calendar full of holidays that once held laughter, tradition, and warmth—but now may carry the heavy weight of grief. This might be your first holiday season without a loved one. Or maybe it’s another year of feeling lonesome, out of place, or disconnected while the world around you insists that this is the season of togetherness. Everywhere you look—commercials, store displays, conversations—there’s a reminder of what this time of year is supposed to be. And if your heart isn’t in it, that reminder can sting.

Seasonal depression is real. Grief is real. Loneliness is real. And the darkness of winter has a way of amplifying what’s already there.

But here’s what’s also real: you are not the only one feeling this way.
Not even close.

Millions of people across the country and around the globe quietly carry similar feelings—sadness, heaviness, grief, fatigue, numbness. Many worry that something is “wrong” with them, that they’re somehow broken because they can’t summon holiday cheer on demand. But you aren’t broken. You aren’t failing. You aren’t even unusual. You are human, navigating a season that can be as complicated as it is beautiful.

And we all cope in different ways. Some people power through. Some find therapy or medication. Some dive into work or scroll endlessly on their phones. Some turn to hobbies, routines, or rituals that keep them grounded. I’m not advocating for one particular method—just acknowledging that we’re all doing the best we can with what we have.

But if the weight becomes more than temporary—if it presses hard, especially as this season closes in—please talk to someone. A friend. A pastor, priest, rabbi, or imam. A counselor or therapist. Someone who can listen, reflect, and help you feel less alone.

Because you aren’t alone.
People see you. People remember you. People count on you.
Your presence matters more than you know.

Please don’t let the perfect storm pull you under. Make it to the new year. Celebrate the tiniest victories along the way. If you did ten lunges today—high five. If you made your bed—HIGH FIVE. Those little things matter. They add up. They are proof that you’re still here, still showing up for yourself, even in the hardest season.

And that is no small thing.

Embracing Life’s Imperfections: A Thanksgiving Reflection

by Mothersense, posted in This Life

A Week of Imperfect Consistency, Sweet Memories, and Deep Gratitude

I’ll be honest — consistency was not my strong suit this week. I had every intention of sticking to my routine, but life had other plans. A doctor’s appointment, Thanksgiving preparations, a Friendsgiving I was supposed to attend, and even a memorial service… it all stacked up quickly.

In the end, I didn’t make it to either the Friendsgiving or the memorial service. I woke up with a migraine — one of those “thank you, fall weather” migraines that completely derail the whole day. So instead of people and plans, I surrendered to rest when my body demanded it.

And once the fog lifted, I did what brings me comfort: I headed to the kitchen.

With apples, pumpkins, and pears staring me down, I rolled up my sleeves and lost myself in the rhythm of cooking for the people I love. Apple pie. Pear tart. Pumpkin pie. As the dough came together under my hands, memories surfaced — childhood flashes of rolling out pie crusts with my mom and my Granny. Bittersweet moments. Warm hands guiding mine. Laughter. Flour everywhere.

I thought of them as my crust came out buttery, flaky, and honestly… perfect. That quiet pride felt like a little hug from the past.

Then came the Lemon Delight — the recipe taught to me by my former mother-in-law, Debbie, who learned it from her mother-in-law, Margaret. Generations of women passing down love through something as simple as dessert. I could hear Debbie’s voice reminding me that you just can’t mess up Lemon Delight. It’s simple, forgiving, and always delicious — a lot like the lessons she gave me.

As I stirred, baked, and tasted my way through the day, I found myself whispering quiet gratitude:

Here’s to my Mom.
Here’s to my Granny.
Here’s to Debbie and Margaret.
Here’s to the women who came before me, who made the dishes their families loved, and who poured themselves — heart and soul — into every meal.

Today, I honor them. I thank them for the love, the memories, the laughter, and the skills that let me move through a kitchen with confidence and purpose. Even in the darkest seasons of life, feeding the people I love anchors me. It gives me something solid to stand on.

I hope your Thanksgiving was full of warmth, good food, gentle moments, and the people who matter most. And if your week looked a little imperfect like mine? That’s okay. Life happens.

Here’s to being present anyway — in the kitchen, in the memories, and in the moments that matter.

Holiday Grief: It hurts but still you smile…

by Mothersense, posted in This Life

Navigating the Holidays with a Heavy Heart: Embracing Tradition Amidst Grief

The holidays are often portrayed as the most joyous time of the year — a season full of laughter, togetherness, and cherished traditions. But for many, this time of year can also carry a sense of quiet sadness, especially when a loved one is no longer part of the celebration. Whether through the death of a family member, a divorce, or another life event that causes a significant absence, the holidays can bring up complex emotions that are difficult to navigate.

The Quiet Grief of Missing Someone

Holidays are naturally a time for family and friends to gather, share meals, and reminisce about the past. It’s a season filled with memories, both old and new. But what happens when that one person who was always at the table, the one who filled the room with laughter or love, is no longer present? The absence of someone significant can turn a joyful occasion into a bittersweet one, where the chair left empty is a constant reminder of their absence.

It’s not just about the physical absence. Sometimes, the absence of someone — whether they’re gone due to death, divorce, or distance — feels like an emotional void. For example, the first holiday season after the loss of a spouse or parent can feel like you’re navigating a minefield of emotions. Their absence may seem to hang over every carol, every holiday tradition, and even every casual conversation. The laughter of children, the familiar holiday routines, and the bustle of the kitchen might feel jarring when the person you loved and shared those moments with is no longer there to partake.

In cases of divorce, the emotional challenges can be compounded by changes in family dynamics. Familiar spaces and family rituals become places of unfamiliarity and loss, as traditions that once brought comfort now carry a sting. Sometimes, families are also separated by distance, leaving a feeling of fractured connection, and the holiday spirit becomes a reminder of all that’s been lost.

Recognizing the Sadness

A crucial step in dealing with grief during the holidays is to acknowledge the sadness. Trying to ignore it or brush it aside can lead to feelings of resentment or frustration. It’s okay to admit that this year looks different — it’s okay to feel sad, to miss someone, or to mourn the changes that life has brought. Emotions are complex, and during a season that is supposed to be full of joy, it’s important to make space for the grief that surfaces.

It’s also important to understand that sadness doesn’t mean you aren’t enjoying the present moment. You can feel sadness and still find joy in the company of those around you. The grief that creeps in during the holidays is not a sign that you are ungrateful or unable to find joy, but rather a reflection of how much the person or situation meant to you.

How to Cope and Still Enjoy the Season

Even when sadness inevitably comes, it’s possible to still find ways to cherish the holidays, honor your grief, and enjoy the present. Here are a few strategies for coping with the bittersweet emotions of the season:

1. Create New Traditions

While keeping old traditions can bring comfort, sometimes they can also highlight the absence. If old traditions feel too painful, consider creating new ones. This doesn’t mean letting go of the old completely — you can still hold onto what matters — but a fresh tradition can provide a way to move forward while still honoring the past. Perhaps you could start a new tradition, like a family volunteering day, a cozy movie marathon, or cooking a dish that you didn’t make before. New memories can help balance out the grief and bring a sense of renewal.

2. Honor the Memory of the Lost Loved One

Rather than trying to suppress memories, find a way to honor them. Share stories about the person you miss. Light a candle in their memory or make a toast in their honor. These small acts allow you to include them in the celebration, not as a source of sadness, but as a reflection of love and the lasting impact they had on your life. You might even want to incorporate their favorite holiday song or dish into your festivities.

3. Allow Yourself to Feel What You Feel

There is no right or wrong way to grieve. It’s okay to cry, to feel frustrated, or to have moments of joy mixed with moments of sadness. Give yourself permission to feel whatever emotions arise without judgment. If you need to take a break from the festivities or step away for a moment of solitude, that’s perfectly okay. Processing grief in a way that feels authentic to you will help you manage the complex emotions of the season.

4. Reach Out for Support

If you’re struggling with grief, don’t hesitate to lean on friends, family, or even a counselor. Talking about your feelings, even if it’s just a quick check-in with someone who understands, can help ease the burden. Sometimes simply expressing how you’re feeling can make a huge difference. You don’t have to carry the weight of grief alone. Sharing in the sadness and joy together can help lighten the load.

5. Practice Gratitude in the Present Moment

While it’s natural to miss the past, focusing on the blessings in the present can provide a sense of peace. Take time to reflect on the things you’re grateful for, whether it’s your family, your health, or the little joys of the season — like a warm cup of tea, a festive decoration, or a quiet moment of reflection. Practicing gratitude can help you shift your focus from what is missing to what is still there, which can make the holidays feel more balanced.

6. Give Yourself Permission to Have Fun

You can still enjoy the holidays, even with sadness present. Don’t feel guilty for laughing, smiling, or finding moments of joy. Grief isn’t about living in constant sadness; it’s about learning how to navigate the ebb and flow of emotions. If you can find moments to laugh with your family, enjoy a holiday treat, or participate in activities that bring you joy, allow yourself to fully experience those moments without guilt. Your loved ones, whether living or passed, would want you to enjoy life, too.

Moving Forward with Love

The holidays will never be exactly the same as they once were, and that’s okay. Embrace the changes, find new ways to honor the memories, and don’t let grief overshadow the moments that can still bring joy. The people we miss may not be physically present, but they can still be a part of our celebrations in spirit.

Grief is a part of love, and love doesn’t vanish with time. It transforms. This holiday season, allow yourself to feel all the emotions — sadness, joy, gratitude — and find new ways to celebrate life, even in the face of loss. Your traditions, old and new, can be a beautiful way to keep the memories alive while embracing the present moment.