It’s that time of year when I begin thinking about holiday cards. For the past few years, I’ve skipped sending them. This is kind of a big deal because, if you know me, you know that this seasonal tradition is right up there with my fondness for HGTV, LhasaPoos, and Hungry Bear’s corn nuggets. I also adore receiving cards — so much, in fact, that I’ve kept decades of them in a basket that I pull out every December and place on the coffee table.

This year, I decided to dust off my old mailing list and send a card. Scrolling through my contacts, I was quickly reminded not only of the joy-affirming presence of loved ones in my life, but also of those who are no longer here.

My children’s pediatrician.

My friend’s sweet husband.

The former neighbor who car-pooled the kids to school.

My nephew.

My father.

My beloved aunt, the one who had already bought my birthday gift — an angel ornament — a month ahead of time before she unexpectedly passed.

My sister-in-law who loved scented candles almost as much as her King Charles Spaniel, husband and daughters.

The co-worker whose life was cut short.

My mother-in-law who shared my affinity for Red Lobster’s cheesy biscuits.

It was such a somber punch in the gut that I took a break to recollect myself. Yes, life is fleeting. We know this right? Yet, it’s something that is easy to forget or intentionally ignore. Add all the Christmas good cheer, holiday commercials with too-perfect families and Michael Buble and it’s almost too much.

Returning to my desk, I did a perspective check. My goodness, I’ve lost more friends and family than I thought would occur at this juncture in my life. Then again, I’m not as young as I think or feel. How’d that happen? Well, life happened. And if you’re lucky enough to escape pain and loss then you’re … um, not human.

I find myself thinking how I wished I’d spent more time with those whose names on my list have an ominous delete checkmark next to them. Of course, they’re never really gone. They are present everywhere I turn with emotional triggers that elicit memories:

When I hear Dave Matthews on the radio, I think of Josh, my nephew.

When I put the angel ornament on my Christmas tree, I think of Aunt Clovis.

When I celebrate my friend’s birthday, I think of her husband, a kind soul and skilled building contractor, who hung pictures in my home.

Each time I hear a really good jazz ensemble, Dr. John Brinsko is right next to me in spirit.

Every single day when I see my father’s red toolbox and published books beside my desk, I think of the one and only Sherman Yeary, author/contractor/father extraordinaire.

Through the years, I’ve made plenty of excuses as to why I don’t have time to send a holiday card. Then I remember how good it feels to be on the receiving end. After a busy day, it’s a peaceful ritual to collect the unopened cards from the mail sitting on my table, find a comfy spot on the couch and read each card ever so deliberately.

I find these tidings truly comforting. For the love. For the experiences. For showing up. For hanging pictures plumb and centered.

So, I will send a card this year as a small way to return the favor, eagerly awaiting for the mail to arrive.