Those Who Are Absent From Our Side But Present In Our Hearts

Gather around, my children.

Yes, you, too, I see you trying to sneak away upstairs to look for presents...

The winter has always been a time for family and community, from the earliest days when we prayed for the return of the sun, to now when it is too cold to play outside, so we sit around the fire and tell stories in the company of friends and family, as we have done since we huddled in caves and kept a fire burning to ward off predators.

But it is also a time for remembering those who are no longer with us, and keeping them alive in our hearts, because for as long as we remember them, they are eternal.

We remember Kieran, who died doing what he loved, only six months after recovering from a back injury that make him think he would never be able to do so again.

In him, we remember Resillience, that there is always hope for as long as you try.

We remember Roy, my grandfather, who battled Cancer for years, waging the long, hard fight but still ready with a terrible joke and hugs for the grandkids, as much when I was nineteen as he was in the distant memories of childhood.. He'd been many things, a tradesman, a community organiser. A husband and father, a grandfather. He was someone we could always call if there was trouble, and know that he would be there in an instant to back us up.

In him, we remember laughter in the face of struggles.

We remember Irene, my grandmother, in her endless kindness. Nana lived to see the first of her great-grandchildren, and two of her grand-daughters married. She out-lived a third grand-daughter. Nana declined slowly, but her concerns were always for her family and how they were getting along.

In her, we remember that anyone can make a distance, and that small acts of kindness are never wasted.

We remember Gordon and Jean, the grandparents who were gone long before I had the chance to know them, who live on in their children and grandchildren.

In them, we remember Legacy, and think to our own, and what impact we will leave behind us.

We remember Sally, my twin. This Christmas will be the 19th one without her, as many Christmases as we had together. Soon, I will have to face the inevitability of having lived longer without her than we had time together.

In her, we remember Perseverence, a life that was never easy, but in which she found joy and friendship, smashing every goal that others claimed she would never reach. I look to her example in that, and live for both of us.

We remember Constance, who never let chronic disability keep her from showing up to weekly meetings, or attending re-enactment events. Even when she had to be up in the unholy hours of the morning to get there on time. Even when she lingered in illness, our social circle came together to make sure she was rarely alone in visiting hours.

In her, we remember the great things we are capable of when we put in the effort, alone and especially when we work together.

We remember Nancy and Richard, the Grandparents I knew only briefly in their final years. Even only seeing them a few times, I knew that they cared, and that I cared about them.

In them, we remember Acceptance, the family that doesn't need to be, but reaches out anyway.

We remember David, a square peg in a life full of round holes. He still found ways to make an impact, through family, through the friends he made online, and through how hard he tried to overcome the hurdles he faced, to reach the summits that often seemed so far out of reach.

In him, we remember that even in the darkest night, there is a way out, and a light to guide us.

The solstice is a time to remember, in the quiet dark, those who are no longer by our side, but who live forever in our hearts.

It is also a time to take joy in those who are still here, and cherish our time together, because we never know how long, or how little, time we have with our friends and family.

So, go now, rejoice in the loved ones around you now, and create the memories that will keep you through some future winter night, when they, and I, am no longer there in person.

Love is not finite or fragile, and when even the stars have burnt out, love remains.

This Christmas is going to be a hard one for me, having lost the closest thing I had to an older brother in early December, and coming up on the 19th anniversary of my twin's death so I actually appreciated having this Challenge to get all my feelings out.

Even if it's the furthest thing from Winter in the Southern Hemisphere, and particularly the Antipodes...