My Christmas Carol

Once upon a time a little girl was born in Thunder Bay, Ontario on December 30th, 1954.

Her parents were thrilled with the birth and decided to name her Carol because of the Christmas season.

Emma Gareau, Carol's mother, was actually named Alexandra at birth and came from a large family.
Her mother Natalia Onifriechuk, had 9 children,

Natalia's mother was Dora Toderian, my great great grandmother, and not much is known about her. She came from a small farming village in Romania (now Ukraine territory) and she looks like she had a lot of kids....doesn't she?

I reflect on family at this time of year, it's nine years since Carol passed away and when I long for my mum, I always trail off and think about my matrilineality. Dora, that sturdy looking woman above who was born in 1852; would she ever think or imagine that a great great granddaughter would even have her picture or be using this thing called a blog, to talk about her? Probably not. Do we share any traits at all, or is that sentimental and ridiculous, because the living and societal circumstances are so different between our centuries? Would there be any recognizable similarities between her and I?

Carol died on December 5th, 2007 and I measure the time since her passing by the events that have passed. I don't have a physical list ticking off milestones, but I feel a wistfulness when something big happens, of wanting her to be there or be able to share it with her. In the last couple of years, this would include the birth of Ali and Michael's baby, having skin cancer, Sarah's dad passing, Cecil passing and of course the Gilmore Girls revival (of course this is included). This isn't the total list, but a few examples. The events of new life and death always seem to be the most prominent.

Here are some pics of Carol through the years:

I think she's around 18-20 years old in the pictures above and below, perhaps give or take a few years.

One of my favourite times with her when was she visited me in Okinawa, in 2005, I set us up at a nice two day retreat, at Alivila Resort, and we had lots of time to drink tea and catch up:

It's hard to articulate, the loss of a loved one, sometimes I feel like her death happened so long ago and my memories become blurry about the time of the event, the who, the what, the where. Other times I will get such a strong urge to call her, to grab my phone and dial, like she is still alive and then within a few seconds reality sets in and I know I can't.

It's still hard watching my friends and loved ones fight with their families, or witnessing them refusing to take the time to reach out, connect and check in with their parents. I become very righteous inside and judgmental and want to scream at them to "Stop", "Swallow your pride, communicate", because it really is true "if I could only speak to her one last time".  But I don't scream, nor would I ever express those judgments in their most severe form, because I know... I know that my relationship with my mum was individual, it's not the same for others. We were lucky we could talk so freely and lovingly.

This Christmas I am without her seasonal decorations, ornaments from decades ago, plush toys that sing annoying holiday songs. This is really hard, and probably also difficult for some to understand why it's so hard. I have to start again, we have to make our own Christmas traditions, mum's seasonal decor will no longer assist me. And it's awfully silly too, because I feel like without her Christmas decorations, I don't have her with me this Christmas.

Here's to new traditions, new designs, I will try my best to embrace the "new" and understand that she will be with me.