A bittersweet Christmas
A note of unexpected sorrow in 1976 overwhelmed celebrations
Growing up, Christmas Day was always a special time spent with family. Uncles, aunts and a gaggle of cousins, who lived across Toronto and Mississauga, would gather at a relative’s home for a full day of eating, drinking and raucous laughter.
My dad and four of his siblings had immigrated to Canada from Portugal when they were teens and young adults. For them, getting together meant continuing an old family tradition in a new country and finding comfort as they thought of loved ones back home, including their father.
My grandfather, a widower, split his time between Toronto and the family homestead in Portugal, on occasion spending a white Christmas here. But not in 1976.
On Christmas Day that year, a phone call silenced the merriment of my family’s festivities.
It was an uncle from Lisbon. He wasn’t calling to wish us Merry Christmas, or “Feliz Natal,” but to alert his brothers and sisters that their father — my grandfather — was missing. On Christmas Eve, my grandfather had been tending to his property, which backed onto a river, and never returned home. Search crews scoured the river, fearful he had slipped down the embankment and drowned.
I was a toddler then and don’t remember that particular Christmas. But over the years, I’ve heard the stories. By all accounts, it was a devastating day. My griefstricken dad and his siblings booked flights to Portugal, praying they would be returning for a successful search-and-rescue effort — not a funeral. Sadly, there was no Christmas miracle.
My grandfather’s body was found a couple of days later down the river. He was buried Dec. 28, on his birthday. He would have been 69.
After that, Christmas took on even greater meaning for my family, with more reason to get together, to comfort each other and to soften their “saudade,” a Portuguese expression that refers to a deep melancholic longing for someone or something and feeling incomplete without it.
Still, those annual festivities didn’t take on a sombre tone, at least not for us kids. My dad and his siblings always did their best to ensure Christmas was a heartwarming holiday, although I’m certain it was with a heavy heart.
iteotonio@thestar.ca