The Ghost of New Years Past
From the time I was born until about 10 years ago, I spent every New Years Day with my Dad’s side of the family. We would all congregate at the family house for homemade pork pie and french fries with ketchup, cranberry sauce, olives, and big glasses of coffee milk. As a French-Canadian family in New England, this is a common practice (at least the pork pie part).
My aunts would each make pork pies; all the same recipe but a strange sense of competition. My uncle Leo would deep fry french fries on the stove top and shake each batch in a Market Basket brown paper bag to remove the excess oils. My dad and uncles would steal bites and mostly be underfoot. It was always a loud experience. TV on, a group playing cards, cousins huddled together, little ones running joyfully.
I loved it and I hated it.
My clothes would smell awful from the stench of frying oil and cigarettes. I was always a bit bored, never quite finding common ground in conversation or convictions. You could easily tell who didn’t want to be there. And for some reason, I miss it this year.
I can’t help but wonder if I’m romanticizing the past or moving through the experience. Is it grief or is it growth? It’s hard to tell.
2023 Holiday Season
This holiday season, I felt a strong pull to my dad. While I’ve talked about my experience with grief at the holidays previously, this year somehow felt different. I found myself thinking about him more and longing for old traditions that fell by the wayside years ago. He’s been gone almost 8 years and while we had our ups and downs, I’ve missed him more this year than ever before.
Embracing this grief has taken a few forms over the past couple of months, some active and some passive. Going bowling, reminiscing in an antique store, telling stories after dinner, tearfully singing along with the radio, quiet moments alone, drifting memories before sleep. I’ve been allowing myself to feel the feels, and it’s making a positive impact.
Table for 3
Saturday December 30 I did something I have not done in almost 10 years; I ate a slice of pork pie.
With my husband and brother, I went out for breakfast at a local diner. I had already decided this was the day I would order pork pie. I’ve seen it on the menu and given the quality of other meals I’ve had there, this felt like the right time in the right place.
This slice came with 2 eggs over medium and a side of hashbrowns. Not quite the plate I grew up on New Years Day with but close enough for it to be deeply emotional.
My husband and brother had no interest in trying a bite. I don’t blame them; those New Year Day experiences were not something either of them enjoyed in the moment or like to look back on, and it’s not really their food of choice. While we did talk about those family gatherings, something much deeper was happening for me.
The first bite was hard, the last was harder. I didn’t know what to expect so I just went for it. It felt like ripping a band-aid off and replacing it with a new, better dressing to care for the wound.
It was painful and comforting, foreign and familiar, heartbreaking and healing.
Check, Please
While I enjoyed my breakfast, it didn’t feel like it was really for me. Not quite dictated or enforced, but it had a feeling of acting on behalf of someone else. While it is common to leave food on an altar, this consumption felt like an active offering; an acknowledging.
I’ve come to realize that food is an incredibly potent method for my ancestor work. I’ve shared my maternal connection to a Dunkin’ chocolate stick and how it’s a practice I proudly carry. This slice of pork pie was absolutely ancestor work, as long as I’m willing to admit to myself that my father is now an ancestor.
Ghost Season
Another thought I’ve been mulling is the duration of ‘spooky season’. For many with a spiritual practice, the time around Samhain, Halloween, and the Day of the Dead are potent moments to connect with those who have passed and welcome seasonal spirits. For me, I firmly believe that Samhain marks only the start of spooky season with the midpoint being Yule (December 21) and the culmination on Imbolc (February 1). Christmas and New Years fall right in the thick of it.
There’s no denying the nostalgia of the holiday season. We often think of our childhood holidays, family traditions, special seasonal meals and dishes. We light candles and reflect on the year come to pass. We set goals and focus on the 12 months ahead. We rest and allow ourselves to slow down so we can continue to move forward. The smell of the holidays brings forward forgotten memories and moments. Embracing trees and greenery to make our homes merry and bright. It all sounds like witchcraft to me.
Holiday ghosts
Christmas is a very ghostly time of year. Let us not forget that Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol is a ghost story! The main character is visited by 3 ghosts (past, present, and future) as a divine energetic effort to correct, recalibrate, and realign.
Many of us reminisce about our past friends and family at this time, often lighting candles, decorating in their honor, or including photos or personal items of theirs into our homes and holiday spaces.
They way I see it, our past ghosts are our ancestors, our present ghosts are our current energetic state, and our future ghosts are our intentions to manifest. It makes perfect sense that a season focused on tradition, family, and the fresh start of a new calendar year would be inherently spooky.
This is also why I feel grief is so potent at this time. The reflection of the joys of the past brings smiles but also tears. What we are missing feels more dire at this time and the cold has a particular sting when the wind picks up. The darker days feel more isolating and the glow of holiday lights reminds us that we are a year older.
Holiday Healing
It’s easy to wrap up in a blanket and let these feelings overwhelm us and poke our wounds. This is exactly why I feel ancestor work is so important at this time!
Our ancestors remind us that we are not alone, that our life is not over, that we can make choices and decisions for what it is we truly desire.
They walk with us all year, but this is when they sit with us. Allow yourself to feel them close and open your heart to the spectrum of emotions it brings. Take it slow, give yourself time, and have your own slice of pork pie.
This blog is ad-free for your reading pleasure!
We love to share information and insight without any ads but we need your help to stay ad-free.