My husband and I used to make our season’s greeting cards every December. Though Santa hats and Christmas tree might have been in them, we called them “once-a-year greeting” cards.
We had fun making them.
We thought about what we did and what events happened that year, and I drew the cartoon of us. He either praised or critiqued to change here and there. We then went to a stationery store to print them, cut them and bought envelopes to go with them. We wrote messages and signed each card, thinking of families and friends.
We used to send out a lot of cards. One time, we had more than two hundred!
They were usually funny and silly cards. Some people thought we couldn’t afford real cards. Some appreciated our efforts.
And, that was okay.
Three years ago, less than four months after my husband passed, I made cards, thanking everyone for their love and support and wishing them a happy holiday season. A few days after I sent them out, I read a post on Facebook, stating that getting a card from me wasn’t the same as getting a card from us. I stopped making cards after reading that post and sent store-bought cards to those who sent me cards.
This year, I made cards again and will send to a handful of people.
I don’t cry as much as I once did. Looking at the cards alone, however, made me think about the time we made them together, and I did cry a bit.
And, that is okay.