When I got sick, my whole world slowed down. The days that used to blur together with busyness and schedules suddenly felt fragile and precious. Living with a chronic illness like transthyretin amyloid cardiomyopathy (ATTR-CM) changes the way you see time. You realize it’s not the holiday on the calendar that makes something special — it’s the people sitting around the table, the laughter echoing through the house and the memories made in between the moments. That’s how our family tradition of HallowThanksMas was born.
Every year around the end of October, we pack up and head to Pennsylvania to celebrate three holidays in one — Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas — all rolled into one long weekend of togetherness. My sister is the mastermind behind the decorations, and she goes all out. When you walk into her house, it feels like stepping into a joyful mash-up of the whole holiday season.
Her porch is decked out for Halloween with pumpkins, twinkling orange lights, and a few friendly ghosts. Inside, her dining room transforms into a Thanksgiving feast — fall colors, table runners with leaves, and that cozy smell of turkey. Then you turn the corner into the living room, and suddenly it’s Christmas morning. The tree is lit, stockings are hung and holiday music from hallmark movies fills the air!
It’s magical — like stepping into three seasons of joy all at once. But what makes HallowThanksMas so special isn’t the decorations or even the food — it’s the time.
When I was healthy, I used to assume there would always be another Christmas, another Thanksgiving, another year to get together. But when you get sick, you start to see how easily time can slip away. You stop waiting for the “right” day on the calendar to celebrate. You stop worrying about whether it’s too early for Christmas music or too late for pumpkin pie. You just start celebrating now.
Our HallowThanksMas weekend has become a sacred time to pause and simply be together. We cook too much, we laugh too loud and we sit around telling the same stories that somehow get funnier every year. The kids love it — they wear costumes on the porch, help set the Thanksgiving table and then tear into presents under the Christmas tree. It’s chaos, but it’s beautiful chaos.
There’s something freeing about letting go of what a holiday “should” look like and just making it your own. My illness has taken a lot from me — energy, stamina, and sometimes even the ability to travel easily — but it’s also given me a new appreciation for the things that really matter. Family. Faith. Connection.
Sometimes I still feel sad that it took getting sick to teach me that. I wish I had realized it sooner — that it’s not the perfect meal or the matching pajamas or the picture-perfect Christmas morning that matters. It’s the laughter in between the moments. The way my sister’s house feels alive with joy. The way my boys’ faces light up when they see the tree twinkling in October. The way my husband and I sit back, look around, and just soak it all in.
HallowThanksMas isn’t about getting the holidays “done early.” It’s about making sure we don’t miss them. It’s about choosing to celebrate life — right here, right now — no matter what day it is.
So when I think about our new tradition, I don’t feel sad anymore. I feel grateful. Grateful that my illness opened my eyes to the value of presence over perfection. Grateful that my sister pours so much love into her home to make it special. Grateful that we can laugh, eat, and give thanks all in one weekend.
Because in the end, it doesn’t matter when you celebrate. What matters is who you celebrate with — and that you make the time while you still can.
Happy HallowThanksMas — from our family to yours.
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