On a snowy November day, my daughter Kit and I were organizing four boxes of Christmas tree ornaments, dividing them between us. Kit, now living independently, wanted to decorate her own Christmas tree. However, for me, unpacking the ornaments brought back memories of loss and grief from past holidays when children who were no longer part of our lives used to celebrate with us.
Our family had grown and shrunk over eight years, fostering 23 children. Most placements were temporary, and amidst fostering, our two children became part of our family through adoption. To my surprise, Kit remembered the stories behind each homemade ornament, even for those she had never met. It was astonishing to realize that her holiday memories differed from mine.
As I opened a box, I uncovered a tree topper that my husband and I had received on our first Christmas together. Running my fingers over the crack in the angel’s wings, held together by Krazy Glue, I reflected on the state of our marriage. Passing the angel to Kit, I wondered if she would want it considering its fragile state. Her eyes sparkled under her festive reindeer hat as she happily accepted it.
Recalling how Kit always wanted to place the angel atop the tree, reminiscing about her height as a child, we laughed together. It was decided that the angel would now adorn Kit’s tree. Another box revealed a Santa sleigh and reindeer ornament crafted by an eight-year-old foster child we had cared for at a Christmas party. The mix of grief and anger resurfaced, knowing we were no longer able to see or speak to him after his departure from our home.
Sensing my shift in mood, Kit took the Santa decoration from me, reminiscing about how I used to place it near the bottom of the tree for her to play with. She admired the flames on the back of the sleigh, comparing them to a movie. Just like our foster children, Kit preferred watching movies on Christmas Eve instead of attending church in the city.
Ensuring inclusivity for the foster children under our care during Christmas was a priority for our family. We adjusted our Christmas dinner schedule so that the children could spend time with their families on Christmas and Boxing Day, avoiding the feeling of missing out on our festivities. We started a tradition of buying unique ornaments for each child, giving them the choice to leave them with us or take them as keepsakes when they left our home.
Among the decorations, I found a reindeer ornament made of pompoms and pipe cleaners, recalling the excitement of my son who nicknamed them “Big Balls.” Dividing ornaments was not new to me, as I had done so during my divorce with my former husband. Kit’s reflection on the ornaments and their significance in her Christmas memories brought me unexpected clarity on the impact of our past experiences.
This year’s tree decorating holds a different promise for me as I look forward to witnessing my daughter’s joyful perspective overshadowing any lingering sadness attached to the ornaments. I eagerly anticipate seeing Kit’s tree come to life with our shared memories and new beginnings.