Thanksgiving has come, which means in our home that Christmas is coming. My husband has already brought down the box of holiday books and videos, and my son will shortly be throwing things all over the family room floor rediscovering the joys of Christmases past.
One of his favorite movies is the Muppets’ Christmas Carol. It is also dear to me. In one scene, Bob Cratchit (Kermit the frog) sits at his kitchen table and looks around the table slowly, at the faces of his wife (Miss Piggy) and each of his children. Then, and only then, does he look at a crutch propped in a corner of the room. His family sits silently, waiting to see what he will say.
He says that life is made up of a series of meetings and partings and that his family has experienced their first parting with the death of Tiny Tim. He says that it is Christmas, and they are gathered together, and he is thankful for all of them. In his quiet voice, he reminds them that they are precious, each unique, and that --- perhaps--- the best time to appreciate them is in the wake of a parting, a loss.
I watch the movie every year, but I haven’t watched that scene in years, since my father died. Its memory is fixed for me (and perhaps inaccurate), but its significance is unchanged.
We gather for holidays as family, whether established by blood or love or both. Over time, the faces at the table change: There are no meetings that will not eventually result in partings. This is the way of things.
Yet my memories remain, of my father, of everyone else I have loved and lost and will hold forever in my heart. Rejoice in the faces at your table. Remember those who are gone. Love moves inexorably from one year to another, one beloved to another, but it survives. Love is the glue of time. It holds us together.
Elizabeth Coolidge-Stolz
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