For many of us, tears accompany this joyful season of giving thanks and giving gifts. We’re missing hearts that used to beat alongside ours.

I used to think that it would be a blessing that if once, just once, I wouldn’t be told that I had arranged the Thanksgiving table the wrong way again.

Now I’d love to be reprimanded one more time, just one more time, for putting out the wrong plates or using the wrong table cloth. It would mean that she was still here (and that I am still wrong).

I’ve reached the age when more and more friends and family who made up so much of the chaos of the holidays have passed on. I’m sorry if you can’t breathe when I hug you, but I don’t want to lose anyone else.

I remember when my biggest concern for Thanksgiving gatherings was if Grandma’s sweet potatoes would be gone before the dish got to me. It never occurred to me that one day, Grandma herself would be gone. The sweet potatoes lost flavor after that.

Decorating for Christmas once was such a hodge-podge of colors, trees that wouldn’t stand up straight, broken ornaments and those silvery strands of “icicles” that we found in random crevices clear into March.

There was the year a flying kitten rode the tree to the ground. Another year, I replaced the tree topper angel’s candlestick bulb with something a little brighter. Real smoke streamed from the fake candle while I frantically yanked on the plug.

One Thanksgiving, Terry handed me, her sensible husband, the electric knife to carve the turkey. I cackled. Within minutes, it looked like the bird had been stuffed with firecrackers that went kablooey all over the serving plate, table and floor.

Sometimes I wonder if she regaled the angels with that story. “I was there,” says one. “It was my last day as his guardian.”

I smile through the tears of memory and imagination.

And that’s what we have, isn’t it? Memories. Those silly little things. Touching moments. The beating of the other heart now stilled.

I didn’t decorate a Christmas tree the last couple of years. My baby girl is a bit shy of 40 and out on her own. Terry died two years ago. I moved to a new job in a different state and now live hundreds of miles from everyone and everything that was familiar.

I hung an ornament of a chipmunk in a Santa hat riding a football from a keyholder hook, the Pillsbury Doughboy with a Christmas wreath from a doorknob and Sesame Street’s Grover on skis from the fake fireplace. They are ornaments that used to hang on the family tree.

They all tell stories about when we got them, the reaction of the kids — and mostly that I refuse to grow up. Because adulting isn’t nearly as fun as we thought it would be back in the 1960s when Whiz-z-zers, Hot Wheels and Chief Cherokee action figures appeared under Christmas trees.

This will be my third Christmas without Terry, my fourth without Dad, and the 27th since my son, Joshua, passed on at age 9. I remember when the doctor told us that with his birth defects, if he lived four months, that would be a miracle. Josh was a miracle, and I smile through the tears.

So many others have holes in their souls as well. During Thanksgiving week alone, my friend Laura marked the third anniversary of the passing of her Bob, and friend DeeDee lost her 18-year-old son Gabe four years ago to a medical condition.

Cousin Cindy, this month should have celebrated her 50th wedding anniversary. Tom passed on 10 years ago. Cindy posted this meme: “Christmas isn’t too far away. Instead of worrying about what’s under the tree, be grateful for who’s still around.”

If you see us at your holiday gathering — late Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, birthdays, whatever — and there’s a tear rolling down our cheeks, don’t try to make us forget. Check for the smile.

Yes, we grieve. Those tears release not just the sadness, but also flow with wonderful memories. The reminiscences of those times, both quirky and sweet, fire up a warmth so deep inside that we’re “sweating” from our eyeballs. We are grateful for the time that we had, even if it was far too short.

Cindy also found this quote: “Whenever I find myself missing you, I’m reminded of how blessed I was to have you in my life. My memories of you will last forever.”

Don’t try to make us forget. Ask us about our memories. The reflections and flashbacks already are spooling through our minds. Oh, the stories we can tell in hilarious detail…

That’s why we’re smiling. We’re smiling through the tears.

Hug someone today. burtseyevu@gmail.com.