Farewell to the Festive Fallen

A Eulogy for Beloved (and Battered) Christmas Decorations

Jan 21, 2025

As we come to the middle of January I presume that you’ve taken your Christmas decorations down. Don’t judge me but mine come down on New Year’s Day, the 12 Days of Christmas be damned! I once left my outdoor lights up all year, they weren’t ‘on’ all year, but still.

Every year around this time, as the festive season has drawn to a close and the New Year resolutions fade from memory, we face the bittersweet task of packing away our Christmas decorations.

It’s a ritual that feels part celebratory, part funereal, a time to reflect on the glittering chaos of Christmases past while wondering how half the ornaments survived another festive season.

As much as I love Christmas and putting the decorations up, and I do, I also adore taking them down again. The kids… not so much. To arbitrate this I remind them if we don’t take them down, we can’t have fun putting them back up again next year.

Now I don’t know about you but we have some horrible decorations in our collection, but I wouldn’t change them for the world.

Baubles the kids made at Nursery or Primary School, some we bought in the midst of a nostalgia-induced shopping spree at a Christmas Market and some I ‘borrowed’ from my parents from when I was a kid. All loved, most past their best, just like me.

For many of us though, this isn’t just about organising boxes and untangling lights; it’s about confronting the sentimental weight of decorations that have been with us through countless Decembers.

These tattered treasures may be a little worse for wear (just like me), but they hold stories, laughter and memories that make it impossible to let them go without a proper farewell. Today, I pay tribute to these festive relics, the unsung heroes of our Christmas cheer.

Dearly beloved,

Ladies and gentlemen, family, friends and festive fanatics, we gather here today under the soft, blinking glow of mismatched Christmas lights to honour the dearly departed (or perhaps the dearly overdue) holiday decorations that have overstayed their welcome.

These beloved relics are the baubles that broke our hearts (and our storage boxes), the garlands that refused to untangle, and the papier-mâché Santas who fought valiantly against time, taste and moths.

These cherished trinkets, once the shining stars of our festive celebrations, now sit limply at the bottom of the decoration bin, wrapped in tissue paper that has seen more Christmases than we have.

They are survivors of decades past, witnesses to countless holiday traditions and testaments to the enduring power of sentimentality over logic.

Let us begin by reflecting on their tacky charm, a charm that, like tinsel, somehow gets everywhere and yet belongs nowhere.

The Tacky Yet Timeless Appeal

We all recognise the beaded garlands in colours that clash violently with your current tree theme, the faded angels with glitter that now resembles dandruff and the DIY ornaments your child made with far more glue than was really necessary.

These decorations may not match your Instagram aesthetic, but they hold a power unmatched by any designer bauble; they make you laugh, and isn’t that the true spirit of the season?

Who could forget the stuffed reindeer with a nose that no longer lights up, a relic of a time when battery compartments were apparently optional? Or the snow globe that stopped snowing sometime around 1998 but still holds a miniature winter wonderland inside?

Their imperfections are what make them perfect. They remind us that Christmas is not about polished perfection; it’s about chaos, creativity and the occasional crafting catastrophe.

And let’s not overlook the kitschy, over-the-top decorations that would make even Clark Griswold blush.

The plastic light-up Santa that’s faded to a vaguely ominous peach. The inflatable snowman who leans sideways, as if he’s had one too many egg nogs. These items are so unabashedly cheerful that their lack of subtlety becomes part of their charm.

These are the pieces that bring stories to the surface.

Like that hideous knitted stocking your Great Aunt made you that could double as a sleeping bag for a small dog. It wasn’t beautiful, but it was made with love…. and possibly half a bottle of sherry.

The Odd Memories They Hold

Every decoration comes with a story, and let’s be honest: some of those stories are downright bizarre.

Take, for instance, the ceramic nativity set missing a few key players. Baby Jesus is there, of course, but where did Mary go? Why is one of the Wise Men a LEGO figure now? And why does the donkey look suspiciously like it was borrowed from a farm animal toy set?

Alternatively, consider the garland that served as a cat toy for three seasons before being ceremoniously retired to the attic. The scratches on the baubles? Those are badges of honour, tiny testaments to the ferocity of feline holiday enthusiasm.

Perhaps you have a lopsided wreath that was crafted during a particularly ambitious DIY phase. It’s adorned with blobs of hot glue, mismatched ribbons and a faint whiff of burnt pine needles.

It hangs proudly on your door every year, not because it’s a masterpiece, but because it’s a reminder of that one December when you decided to channel your inner Blue Peter with wildly mixed results.

These objects hold not just memories but moments frozen in time.

The gaudy tree topper you inherited from your grandparents might not align with your modern aesthetic, but it was there the year your family decided to serve pizza for Christmas dinner, the year the dog knocked over the tree and the year Uncle Tom fell asleep in the armchair with a party hat on his head.

Why We Can’t Let Them Go

Letting go of Christmas decor is not like decluttering the rest of your home.

Marie Kondo might ask if it sparks joy, but with Christmas decorations, the answer is always more complicated.

Does the chipped ornament shaped like a teapot spark joy? No, but it sparks a memory of your grandmother’s tea obsession, and suddenly, you’re not just looking at an ornament, you’re looking at a piece of your family history.

These objects have a way of weaving themselves into the fabric of our lives, becoming physical representations of intangible feelings.

They remind us of loved ones who are no longer here, of childhood excitement, and of the pure, unadulterated magic of Christmas mornings long past.

And then there’s guilt, the perennial tinsel-covered elephant in the room.

How could you possibly toss out the wreath your child made in nursery school, even if it’s now held together with sellotape?

Discarding these items feels like discarding the memories attached to them, and so they linger, year after year, in lofts, garages and sheds, waiting for their moment to shine again.

It’s not just nostalgia that keeps these decorations alive; it’s hope. Hope that one day, they’ll make their triumphant return, even if just for one final display.

A Farewell Wrapped in Sentiment

But there comes a time when even the most beloved decorations must be laid to rest, or at least gently retired to a less prominent spot on the tree.

This is not an act of betrayal; it’s an act of love.

It’s acknowledging that while these objects have served us well, it’s time to make room for new memories, new traditions, and, yes, new decorations.

So, as we bid farewell to these festive relics, let us do so with gratitude.

Thank you, crocheted snowman with the slightly creepy smile, for being a constant presence on our mantel.

Thank you, blinking lights that only work on one side, for your valiant efforts.

Thank you, papier-mâché Rudolph, for reminding us that it’s okay to be a little rough around the edges.

Let us also recognise the unsung heroes of Christmas decor: the humble ornament hooks that valiantly held up ornaments that were far too heavy, the half-melted candles that never got lit but always looked festive, and the artificial trees that braved attic heat and dust for decades.

The Lessons They Leave Behind

As we part ways with these cherished items, let’s remember the lessons they taught us.

The first one is to embrace imperfection. The best moments are often the messiest, and that’s OK.

Secondly I’d ask you to cherish the memories. It’s not about the object itself but the stories it holds.

Finally, celebrate change. Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting; it means making space for something new.

These decorations remind us that Christmas is not about perfection; it’s about connection.

The slightly wonky star at the top of the tree doesn’t just represent a celestial beacon for your family, it represents all the effort, laughter and occasional frustration that went into creating the Yuletide magic for us all.

A Tinsel Farewell

And so, as we close this chapter, let us raise a glass (or a tankard of mulled wine) to the holiday decorations that have brought us so much joy, laughter, and, occasionally, frustration.

May they find peace in the great beyond, whether that’s a recycling bin, a charity shop, or the depths of the storage box labeled “Miscellaneous Christmas Stuff.”

Farewell, dear decorations, you may be gone, but you will never be forgotten ….. until next Christmas.

Thanks for taking the time to read my post, with all the other quality work on Substack, I do appreciate you spending time reading mine.

What’s your favourite Christmas decoration and what memories does it hold? Let me know in the comments below.

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