The winter holidays are thought of as a time of joy, a time to chase away the northern hemisphere’s winter dark with lights, candles, sweets, gifts, gatherings and community festivities. To be sure, all of this is important, but for many, the holidays also yield deep longing for those who have died or are suffering and are not here this year to enjoy time together. When we are in mourning, it is helpful to shift our focus from our lives without to our lives shared with those we’ve loved.

Here is Jewish tale I’ve heard that illustrates this:

The Blanket Made By Zadie

Itzik was a tailor and everything he sewed was filled with love and faith. When his grandson was born, he sewed a very special blanket that kept the baby warm. As the boy grew, he carried his blanket around with him and it began to tatter and tear, so Zadie (his grandfather) took his scissors, needle and thread and made his grandson a coat out of that worn out old blanket.

The coat kept the boy warm as he went to school and played with his friends. The boy loved the coat so much, he was hardly ever without it. Little boys grow but not coats, so when the coat no longer fit the boy, Zadie took his scissors, needle and thread and cut down his grandson’s coat into a vest. The boy loved the vest and wore it almost everywhere, but one day as he was working on a special project for Zadie paint splattered onto the vest. The vest was ruined and the boy was very upset.

Zadie looked at the vest and then to his grandson, told him to not worry, and took the vest, the scissors, needle and some thread and made a wonderful tie for his grandson. The boy loved the tie and wore it to school and on many special occasions.

One day when the boy was visiting Zadie for a holiday and they told stories and sang songs, something terrible happened; the tie became stained with red beet borscht. The boy was very sad, but Zadie looked at the tie and smiled. After the holiday he took the tie, his scissors, needle and a little thread and made a handkerchief for his grandson.

The boy used his special handkerchief until it became tattered and worn. The boy was very gloomy then, so Zadie took the handkerchief, his scissors, needle and some thread and made a small cloth-covered button. The boy was very happy and he wore a shirt with the button every day that he could.

One day, after Zadie died, the button fell off. He looked everywhere but could not find the button that his Zadie made for him with needle, some thread and a lot of love. He sat down and cried for a very long time. He found it hard to think or even be with his friends. And then, one day, he took a pen in his hand and some paper and began to draw and write.

He remembered the blanket, the coat, the vest, the tie, the handkerchief, the cloth-covered button, and all the good times he enjoyed with each of these items. He drew pictures and wrote stories about each of the things Zadie made for him and shared them with his friends. He understood that while the past can no longer be the present, he can always remember.

When we write our good memories of deceased loved ones, like the boy, we bring the departed inside of our own spirits. We never forget them. And we grow as people when we live with the spirit of cherished others inside of ourselves.

Here is a prayer from the Jewish Prayer Book with a structure that can help you begin writing your memories:

At the rising of the sun and at its going down
We remember them.
At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter
We remember them.
At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring
We remember them.
At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer
We remember them.
At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn
We remember them.
At the beginning of the year and when it ends
We remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live;
for they are now a part of us
as we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength
We remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart
We remember them.
When we have joy we crave to share
We remember them.
When we have decisions that are difficult to make
We remember them.
When we have achievements that are based on theirs
We remember them.
As long as we live, they too will live;
for they are now a part of us
as we remember them.

Of course, you can use “I” instead of “we”. And you can fill in the details of what you are remembering with lots of specifics and tangibles: “I remember you when I go food shopping each week and choose the same parking space you liked. I think of what you always said, “Why don’t we take this one? We could use the extra steps of walking.” And as I walk I tell you the shopping list, though it is smaller without you.”

Things that are small work well interspersed with memories that loom large as well.

My hope is that writing in this way, you will retrieve moments of great joy amidst your tears.