Raise one hand if you love the holidays. Now raise the other if you are plagued with holiday grief. The holidays have this funny way of being many folks’ favorite time of year, many folks’ least favorite time of year, and for some of us, kind of both.
I lost my mom to cancer six years ago this coming April. At her funeral, throngs of people came up to me after I delivered the eulogy to tell me that it would “get easier.”
Spoiler alert: It didn’t. At least, not at the holidays.
Most of the year I’m fine. Most of the year I’m more or less satisfied with the direction of my life and living in the moment. But Geez Louise, when it comes to major life milestones and holidays, it sure as heck ain’t true that “it gets easier.”
Every single Christmas I reach a point in the day where I just lose it and start bawling like a baby. Today, thankfully, it happened before our family arrived for Christmas dinner. Although, who doesn’t love tears in their green bean casserole?!
Today, for the first time since her passing, I made my mom’s signature Christmas breakfast. It’s nothing fancy. She wasn’t a cooking and baking fanatic like I am. (They say it skips a generation, which would jive with the fact that her mom was an amazing chef).
Nope, my mom’s signature Christmas breakfast dish wasn’t some magazine-worthy quiche or from-scratch, organic souffle. Nope, it was store bought croissants and instant hot chocolate.
I would always be a rebel and dunk my croissant in my cocoa. 😉
(Try it! It’s amazing!)
I’m not sure where my mom came up with that combination for Christmas breakfast, but it was her thing. And I loved it. And I loved her.
Since her death, many Christmas mornings have seen me do something non-emotional for breakfast, like a banana and a ten mile run to escape my feelings of grief.
But this year I decided to do Mom’s breakfast.
Here’s to you, Mom: cocoa and croissants.