"I wish we could put up some of the Christmas spirit in jars and open a jar of it every month." —Harlan Miller For many people, Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year. The hustle and bustle of shopping for the perfect present, the ringing of silver bells, and carols on the way to grandma’s house are images that kindle Christmas spirit. For some caregivers, there’s not enough kindling in a pine forest to bring Christmas back. Sadness replaces the spirit of goodwill that should accompany the holidays, and the season, as it turns out, is less than wonderful. In their minds, sketches of past Christmases drive out the Norman Rockwell images of happy, peaceful families gathering about the tree or around a table filled with delights only consumed at Christmas. Flashes of past Christmases keep caregivers reeling between nostalgia and loss. Celebrating is like salt in the wound. A reminder that a loved one lost to disease won’t be gathering this year. The loss is equally palpable for caregivers of people who are physically present but prevented by dementia from really being there. If only Miller’s wish would come true by some Christmas miracle. Pulling a transformative jar of Christmas spirit from a high shelf, we’d sprinkle it around, a heavy dose for good measure.