I was supposed to change the theme of my Christmas Tree to red this year. It has been five years since Mama left, and I thought maybe it was time for something bolder, a shift from the gentle shades of pink that have dressed my tree all these years. Pink felt like her softness, her warmth, her way of turning ordinary days tender. But red would’ve meant strength, a new chapter, maybe even healing.

Yet heavens have other plans. Papa followed her light. And so, red will have to wait.

There’s an old belief that red should not be worn or displayed while grieving. It is said to confuse the spirits, to make it seem as though you are celebrating when your heart is still heavy. I never really paid much attention to such things before, but now it feels like I shouldn’t tempt the balance between love and loss.

So I will have to wait another year, maybe more, before I can change the color of my tree. So the tree will stay pink, in all its quiet shades. Pale blush for gentleness, rose for memory, dusty pink for the love that lingers.

Maybe by then, when the ache softens and time has done its slow mending, I’ll be ready to bring in red. For now, I will just imagine what it would look like one day, a tree glowing in red, not for festivity, but for remembrance. Not to celebrate absence, but to honor endurance. Not as a sign of joy, but as a tribute.

Maybe when that time comes, red will mean love that survived both heaven and earth.

I miss you, Mama and Papa!

Love,

Ana 💋