For many of us, the ache of nostalgia coincides with celebratory gatherings. It’s an awareness of who isn't in the room. A craving for the physical and emotional togetherness with those special loved-ones. Your nostalgia may not be for a person or ancestor, but instead a place that brought the warm-fuzzy feeling of home, an activity with which we can no longer engage, or a general loss of hope in something greater.

Grief makes the room feel empty.

Instead of ignoring the homesickness and yearning for connection, I’m choosing to invite my loved-ones and ancestors into my heart, to gather with me in the present. I’ll set a plate out for the doggies, the siblings and children, the parents and grands, and the ancestors who drift in the periphery. In doing so, I remind them, and myself, that cherishing them represents a love that persists.

Your loved-one is present simply because they are within. ​ To invite their presence, we make sure there is music playing in the background, scents wafting from the bubbling spice pot, light dancing as candles flicker, and a plate of food ready to be eaten. ​ Perhaps by acknowledging them, the pain of nostalgia softens into something else: connection.

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