The tradition is so old, I would have to count the decades, not the years.

Every Thanksgiving and Christmas, no matter what the weather, my husband and I would get together with my closest friend and her husband to celebrate the holidays: Thanksgiving at their place, Christmas at ours.

Even though my husband and I almost always volunteered at a local church’s soup kitchen on Thanksgiving and occasionally on Christmas, too, we did not hang around afterward to eat with the other volunteers.

Instead, we headed to meet up with these friends when our work was finished.

Neither my girlfriend nor her husband has any family in the U.S. We were their family.

In 2018, the tradition continued as usual, except both holidays were spent at our house, since my husband’s deteriorating health made it impossible for him to climb the steep concrete steps leading to our friends’ front door.

Four months later, my girlfriend’s husband was dead. He seemed OK at our Christmas get-together, complaining only of back pain and telling us about his chiropractic treatments for it.

Turns out, he had cancer that had spread to various organs. By the time my friends received the proper diagnosis, he lived less than one month.

During the 2019 holiday season, my girlfriend, my husband and I continued our tradition, along with a few of my cousins who joined us.

I felt sad not seeing my friend’s husband in his usual chair or hearing his complaints about some dish he didn’t care for. (I am a creative vegetarian cook. He was a meat and potatoes guy.)

Despite his criticisms, we missed him and spent time reminiscing about previous holidays together and laughing at our silly recollections.

Six weeks into this new year, my husband passed away. Now, our long-standing foursome was down to the two of us gals, friends for more than 50 years.

Not a day passed without us chatting on the phone at least once. Prepandemic, we talked of trips we could take together when winter ended.

Those plans were not to be.

Just four weeks after my husband died, my best friend died unexpectedly one night in her bed.

In 10 months, our cozy foursome had dwindled to one.

This Thanksgiving and Christmas, I will be a party of one. The out-of-control coronavirus makes me reluctant to accept invitations or have anyone over to my house for a meal.

The tradition is over. Hard as that fact is to accept, I know everything has its season and its end.

I have to admit, I probably took our holiday get-togethers and other outings for granted. How foolish to assume life as we know it will always be the same.

Circumstances change, people die, and nothing remains static. Life is fluid. Life is also cruel.

At a time when people are grieving a loss, or multiple losses, the last thing we need is isolation. The company of others is a balm for the soul. But COVID-19 prevents such in-person comfort.

As the holidays rapidly approach and I browse through gift catalogs, I often have to remind myself not to look for presents for my husband and friend. I always enjoyed giving more than receiving, and eagerly anticipated their reactions to my gifts. I feel cheated this year.

Although I will be alone for the holidays this year, I will take steps not to be lonely. I will not sit around and wait for someone to call me.

I will make the calls and let friends and family know I am thinking of them. Just hearing a familiar voice can be soothing.

I also plan to decorate my house, even though few people will see it. The festive atmosphere lifts my spirits and makes the rooms feel inviting.

And I will send out holiday cards and notes, as I always do. That is a tradition people look forward to, since I have been making my own cards for at least 20 years.

There is no one right way to celebrate. Maybe I will buy myself a present. And certainly I will donate to local charities during this season of giving to really get into the holiday spirit.

Whatever I choose to do as I forge my path through the holidays solo, love and memories will keep both my husband and my best friend alive in my heart.

For those of you who still have your loved ones physically with you, count your blessings. Celebrate and be grateful for everyone and everything bringing joy to your life.

The bubble could burst in an instant.