Rose Miller 
Hanukkah is a holiday of hope and miracles. It was always my favorite holiday, so warm and inviting. As far back as I can remember we celebrated the nights around a beautifully lit menorah. I hosted the class parties for many years.
I can’t say I haven’t had trauma on Hanukkah. When I was 10 my grandfather died while on our way to extended family for the first-night candle lighting. Even so, there was something comforting during the holiday season that heals you among the chaos.
Years later, I grew up and had children of my own. I tried my best to pass on the tradition and beauty of the holiday season to them. However, it didn’t seem to be as important to my partner. He never celebrated the way I was used to. I never received nor was I able to give my kids the joy of opening gifts. I had to get creative to make them feel like everyone else.
The traumas continued throughout the Hanukkah season. It was on Hanukkah when I broke the silence of the abuse I endured to my in-laws. (Read more: Mother Knows Best – The Rose Miller Story) It was on Hanukkah that he filed a restraining order against me and kicked me out of the house.
When I left my ex, I wanted to change all this. (Read more: My Ticket Out – The Rose Miller Story)
Hanukkah fell a couple of months after I moved out. I got an apartment for my five kids and me. We set up a menorah by the window. We celebrated with donuts and latkes, but when it came to presents I struggled. Money was tight and gifts were not a priority the first year- safety was.
Lucky for me the disappointments were small. My kids weren’t used to a generous holiday season. I promised myself I would be generous with them just like Mom was with me.
The next year by some holiday miracle I was nominated by the town organization to win gifts. My dining room table overflowed with gifts for all ages. My kids’ eyes beamed with wonder at a sight they had never seen before. Mom and I watched in amazement as the kids opened gift after gift to find their wish list come true.
It was a magical holiday and I couldn’t help but marvel at what a difference a year can make. I only wanted to repeat this next year and I did. The next year I was in a financial place to fill the table again. This time adding a pile for Mom. Included was her favorite Ferre Rochier chocolate, a book from her favorite author, a pair of gloves, and a necklace that said Mom.
At first, she didn’t want to come, she claimed to be too tired but there was a five-foot Mickey Mouse hiding in her house. A gift I found for my son a month before. “You have to come,” I begged. “I need you to bring it, and you can’t miss his reaction.” She agreed, she didn’t want to disappoint her grandson.
And then the ultimate trauma. Right after Hanukkah Mom caught COVID and was rushed to the ICU. My world was turned upside down overnight. She spent two weeks in an induced coma and never recovered. After the funeral, we found her overnight bag with all the gifts still sealed in its original packaging. It hurt that she didn’t get to open it. Comfort enveloped me that I was able to include her on the last year she would spend with us. (Read more: A Second Chance – The Rose Miller Story)
Life is short. No one knows how much time they have left. It’s important to make every day count and as long as the candle is still lit it’s never too late….
