Noche Buena Series No. 3
I’ll be quite honest. I have been dreading to write and release my portion of the Noche Buena series. Not because I dislike writing or talking about food/tradition, but because of the grief I live with from the death of my parents. Noche Buena and Christmas were special to my family solely because of my mother, and a close second favorite of hers was New Year, with my father’s birthday in between on the 27th. My nuclear family did the whole midnight mass thing when I was a kid, but as the years passed, less and less of us went.
That’s the thing, though. Traditions evolve and traditions end or are placed on pause for a while. I learned this early on since my family hadn’t had a holiday all together, in one place, since I was a child. My parents very quietly executed anything we did as a family, so we hardly documented anything let alone take pictures or write down recipes. All of this has made me very self-conscious throughout the years because of the cultural and societal expectation to have holiday memories.
All this reflection has made me both regretful, that my family wasn’t sentimental enough to document our traditions nor hold on to them while my parents were alive, and appreciative of the creation of new traditions. My partner, now fiancé, and I have enjoyed Dim Sum on Christmas every year, for example. Before the pandemic, we were making a trip to Vancouver BC a winter holiday tradition. And now, new and old friends are sharing and creating new memories for me to reflect as I continue to take steps forward into the holidays of the future.
Everyone has their own experiences with the holidays, and cultural tradition doesn’t mean homogeneity. Togetherness during the holidays can mean with family, chosen family, and/or with oneself.
With Love and Hope,
Nori
