Christmas with My Mom | Music, Traditions, and the Magic She Made

Some of my strongest Christmas memories begin with music. Not just songs playing in the background but music as part of the rhythm of the season. Singing Christmas songs while my mom played on the piano night after night. Christmas, in our family, wasn’t something you rushed through. It was something you settled into.

That came from my mom. She was musical, deeply traditional and being together as a family was high priority at Christmas. Not because it was perfect but because it was shared.

The Traditions That Never Changed

There were certain things that simply did not change in our house.

We always went into the mountains to cut down a real Christmas tree. Never a fake one. Never one from a lot. My dad would hang the tree in the garage to let all the sap go to the top. I carried that tradition on with my kids until they were teenagers. (That’s us pictured above)

Stockings were non-negotiable. They mattered just as much as the gifts under the tree, if not more. And our stockings had legit gifts in them – not just filled with fruits and sweets.

And Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were about being together; extended family included. One gift at a time. No rushing. No chaos. Just presence.

Looking back now, I realize how intentional that all was. At the time, it just felt like “how Christmas was done.” As an adult, I see how much work, juggling, planning and heart went into making it feel that way.

The Imperfect, Funny Magic

Not everything went smoothly. In fact, almost every year had something. There were gift mix-ups…like the year my mom occidentally put the wrong names on the presents. Or the year she was absolutely certain she had bought gifts… only to find them stashed in a closet the following summer. Those stories and memories are treasured have lived on for decades.

And then there were the rum balls. She loved them. A little too much some years. Enough that she’d get tipsy, laugh louder, and somehow make the whole room warmer just by being herself.

Those imperfections? They’re some of my favorite memories now.

Music, Always Music

Music is one of the greatest gifts she gave me. I grew up singing in the church choir, took singing lessons and sang at weddings.

She played the piano every December night. I sang along. We watched White Christmas every single year; no exceptions. Those melodies still live in me. They still surface every December, whether I’m ready for them or not.

Even now, Christmas music carries her presence. Listening to music is when I feel the closest to her. It’s comfort and memory wrapped together.

The Christmas That Changed Everything

My mom passed away on Christmas Eve in 2011.

She was at her crafting table, doing something she loved. My husband Dave had an instinct to go check on her. She was already gone.

That Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are a blur. Grief does that. Time collapses.

I still sometimes wrestle with guilt that she was alone. But I also hold onto this truth: she was surrounded by a life she built, traditions she loved and creativity that brought her joy.

Our last Christmas with her was the year before. At the time, we didn’t know it would be the last. And for that, I’m grateful.

Carrying Her Forward

My relationship with my mom was complex. We both carried baggage. We both did the best we could with what we knew at the time.

What I know now; without question is this: She made Christmas magical. Not perfect. Magical.

And I became a keeper of traditions because of her.

I carried those traditions into my own family. I still do. The music, the stockings, the tree, the togetherness; it all traces back to her.

I miss my mom all year. But the ache is deeper during the holidays. And somehow, so is the gratitude.

Because Christmas still sounds like music.

Still feels like family.

And still carries the magic she worked so hard to create.

Thank You Mom

Dear Mom,

Thank you for everything you gave us at Christmas and for all the ways you made it magical without us ever knowing how hard you worked to do that. Thank you for the music, the traditions, the trees we cut down together, the stockings that were never optional and the way family always came first.

It wasn’t perfect and I know now it didn’t have to be. What mattered was that we were together. As an adult, I understand how much intention, effort, and love it took to create those moments year after year. I see it now in a way I couldn’t then and I carry it with me every season.

Because of you, Christmas still sounds like music, feels like togetherness and means showing up for the people you love. I’ve tried to carry those traditions forward, not because I had to but because they mattered. Because you mattered.

Thank you for being the keeper of our Christmas memories.

I miss you always, but especially now. ❤️