Every Christmas brings to light the losses, those missing from our lives, for everyone. For me, the death of a daughter two Christmases ago adds an acute kind of loss. Reading this piece has given me a bit of balm, a feeling of being a part of something greater than my own grief—an unexpected but much-appreciated Christmas present. Thank you.
Merry Christmas dear Alice! On Christmas Eve, I can smell the incense and beam myself to the Church of the Redeemer with ease. It was a tradition every year, and Dad sang the hymns with such robust, though terrible, vigor. Christmas IS a nostalgic time, and I have been"visiting" Mom and Dad and spending time in 638 over the past few weeks. I read A Christmas Carol every year, and the picture you chose from the Jim Carrey version is one of our favorite versions. This season alone, I have attended or watched 4 productions of the story. Last year, as I put away our decorations, I wondered what I would be thinking this year, and desperately hoping the Trump phenomenon would have died. I have taken a break from the news and worry for the past few weeks, but again, I wonder what my 2025 self will review when she takes down the bins from the attic next December. XO
Alice, thank you for this wonderful piece. My father read the unabridged Christmas Carol to us every Christmas Eve for decades. I can still hear the cadence of his voice and see myself and my six siblings wandering in and out of the room, settling in chairs and on the floor as he read. Stories are the fabric of our lives, our deepest connection in life and beyond. God bless us everyone!
I once spent a day putting those last few paragraphs of The Dead in a "cut up generator" (Burroughs phase). Almost no matter what way the text generated, those last few paragraphs were always beautiful.
So moving, Alice. Thank you. The ending of The Dead is, for me, the most stunning in all of literature. I've also been listening to Hugh Grant's performance of A Christmas Carol, which George Saunders is currently discussing on his Substack, Story Club. I didn't think my heart could be more open to these two stories, but your words here deepen the well. They are bottomless. My souls swoons.
Beautiful! I feel more of this as I get older, miss those gone, while being aware of how fleeting the time with my children are. Thank you for this post! Happy Holidays!
A stunning piece, Alice, thank you. It always struck me that, as you say, Christmas is a thin place, where the living and the dead, the present and the past, are separated by a thin veil of time and memory. My concentration in college was on Dickens, and I loved all of the books (some more than others), but A Christmas Carol probably the most, and took my mother to see the original manuscript some years ago at The Morgan Library. I remembered that Dickens was in a workhouse as a child, and (if I recall accurately) as a result of his father being in debtor’s prison for not being able to pay back 40 pounds. It broke Dickens’ heart, and, I think, made him who he was; like Baldwin says, he tells the same stories again and again, until his stories become clearer and clearer.
I thought it was just I who felt this way at Christmas.
You concentrated on Dickens, how wonderful. What an extraordinary body of work to know well. Thank you for this, Elissa. It means so much to hear from you.
We were just discussing this very thing the other day - Christmas can be the most terrible of all anniversaries, a time when we re-experience grief - like it or not - over those we have lost every single year. I am a huge fan of A Christmas Carol and my boys feel the same, watching the (Alastair Sim version) faithfully each year and like myself, can quote from it on cue.
Thank you for this thoughtful, refreshing and spot-on post, I loved every bit.
I feel the same way. Thanks for writing this Alice. My Mom began A Christmas Carol every December 10th and the three of us listened to it all every year. The repetition only improved it. We went to a nice reading on the 20th at The Old Merchant’s House.
Love these musings! It brings back memories: my little cousin who drowned and was buried at the Church of the Redeemer. I was drawn to her grave over the years, even as a young child myself, thinking of how a small child's life could be snuffed out so quickly. And then playing Scrooge in our 7th grade school play - how lucky there were no boys to take the role instead of me. It gave me courage. I can still say most of the words as I watch the play each year.
How incredible that Dickens sat down and wrote this story in one day with his London house crammed to the brim with his noisy children, debtors knocking on his door, and his demanding publishers' that he must give them something immediately.
I didn't know that about your cousin, or can't remember it, but yes, those early thoughts of death and the attraction of tragedy. I wish I could remember your performance as Scrooge! What a high point! Happy Hols to you.
Every Christmas brings to light the losses, those missing from our lives, for everyone. For me, the death of a daughter two Christmases ago adds an acute kind of loss. Reading this piece has given me a bit of balm, a feeling of being a part of something greater than my own grief—an unexpected but much-appreciated Christmas present. Thank you.
Thanks so much, this touches me deeply.
Merry Christmas dear Alice! On Christmas Eve, I can smell the incense and beam myself to the Church of the Redeemer with ease. It was a tradition every year, and Dad sang the hymns with such robust, though terrible, vigor. Christmas IS a nostalgic time, and I have been"visiting" Mom and Dad and spending time in 638 over the past few weeks. I read A Christmas Carol every year, and the picture you chose from the Jim Carrey version is one of our favorite versions. This season alone, I have attended or watched 4 productions of the story. Last year, as I put away our decorations, I wondered what I would be thinking this year, and desperately hoping the Trump phenomenon would have died. I have taken a break from the news and worry for the past few weeks, but again, I wonder what my 2025 self will review when she takes down the bins from the attic next December. XO
Lea, it's amazing we share memories, and I can see your parents so clearly. And yes to who will we be in a year? Here's to good things.
Alice, thank you for this wonderful piece. My father read the unabridged Christmas Carol to us every Christmas Eve for decades. I can still hear the cadence of his voice and see myself and my six siblings wandering in and out of the room, settling in chairs and on the floor as he read. Stories are the fabric of our lives, our deepest connection in life and beyond. God bless us everyone!
How beautiful. What a wonderful tradition, and fun with six siblings! (I hope.)
I once spent a day putting those last few paragraphs of The Dead in a "cut up generator" (Burroughs phase). Almost no matter what way the text generated, those last few paragraphs were always beautiful.
Brilliant idea.
I can’t imagine a Christmas Eve without “Snow was general all over Ireland.” Such an exquisite story and ending. Thank you for this.
So moving, Alice. Thank you. The ending of The Dead is, for me, the most stunning in all of literature. I've also been listening to Hugh Grant's performance of A Christmas Carol, which George Saunders is currently discussing on his Substack, Story Club. I didn't think my heart could be more open to these two stories, but your words here deepen the well. They are bottomless. My souls swoons.
I'm not surprised to hear George Saunders is a fan too. Hope he enjoyed Hugh Grant.
Truth! Now I know the reason why.
I’ve always loved that last sentence of The Dead. Thank you for this, Alice.
Thanks, Karen.
Beautiful! I feel more of this as I get older, miss those gone, while being aware of how fleeting the time with my children are. Thank you for this post! Happy Holidays!
I agree, the missing grows more acute as I grow closer to qualifying as a person missed.
Alice, this is beautiful and you are truly brilliant, but then we all knew that. 🥰 and Merry everything to you. F
You too my dearest Frances! Deck the halls. I always think of your beautiful wedding.
A stunning piece, Alice, thank you. It always struck me that, as you say, Christmas is a thin place, where the living and the dead, the present and the past, are separated by a thin veil of time and memory. My concentration in college was on Dickens, and I loved all of the books (some more than others), but A Christmas Carol probably the most, and took my mother to see the original manuscript some years ago at The Morgan Library. I remembered that Dickens was in a workhouse as a child, and (if I recall accurately) as a result of his father being in debtor’s prison for not being able to pay back 40 pounds. It broke Dickens’ heart, and, I think, made him who he was; like Baldwin says, he tells the same stories again and again, until his stories become clearer and clearer.
I thought it was just I who felt this way at Christmas.
You concentrated on Dickens, how wonderful. What an extraordinary body of work to know well. Thank you for this, Elissa. It means so much to hear from you.
🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻Have a Merry Christmas, Alice. And now I’m thinking about a reread of Little Dorrit.
We were just discussing this very thing the other day - Christmas can be the most terrible of all anniversaries, a time when we re-experience grief - like it or not - over those we have lost every single year. I am a huge fan of A Christmas Carol and my boys feel the same, watching the (Alastair Sim version) faithfully each year and like myself, can quote from it on cue.
Thank you for this thoughtful, refreshing and spot-on post, I loved every bit.
God Bless us every one!
The Alistair Sim version is the gold standard, for sure. And yes, the bandage being ripped off and hurting. It's rough.
Alice, this made me cry and, especially your words at the conclusion, not so alone anymore.
Thank you for this past year of brilliant, delightful posts and wishing you wonderful holidays.
Thanks so much, Erica. Happy Hols to you.
I feel the same way. Thanks for writing this Alice. My Mom began A Christmas Carol every December 10th and the three of us listened to it all every year. The repetition only improved it. We went to a nice reading on the 20th at The Old Merchant’s House.
It does bear repeating and repeating, it is such a rich and life changing text. I love picturing May and you all sharing the book every year.
Love these musings! It brings back memories: my little cousin who drowned and was buried at the Church of the Redeemer. I was drawn to her grave over the years, even as a young child myself, thinking of how a small child's life could be snuffed out so quickly. And then playing Scrooge in our 7th grade school play - how lucky there were no boys to take the role instead of me. It gave me courage. I can still say most of the words as I watch the play each year.
How incredible that Dickens sat down and wrote this story in one day with his London house crammed to the brim with his noisy children, debtors knocking on his door, and his demanding publishers' that he must give them something immediately.
Merry Christmas to one and all.
I didn't know that about your cousin, or can't remember it, but yes, those early thoughts of death and the attraction of tragedy. I wish I could remember your performance as Scrooge! What a high point! Happy Hols to you.
"All of the living should bed the dead!
Just think
how much ghosts must miss having bodies,
and how light you will feel
when you let go of yours
for a while" --Keckler
we should know