Merry Christmas, Daddy

Hi Daddy. Paw. Dear Ol’ Dodd. Sea Hag.

 

It’s Christmastime, your favorite time of the year. We put up our tree this past weekend, including the little baby-in-a-nutshell ornament I made in kindergarten and the ornaments Grandma M crocheted and that one piece of tinsel left from Grandma R’s tree. And your star is on top–it wouldn’t be Christmas without your star. It’s a little worse for wear; I guess that happens when the same star has been used for 30+ years. And it’s a live tree this year, so we’re watering it dutifully and watching to make sure none of the critters pees on it. So far, so good.

 

We’ve got a big pile of presents to set out, too, just as soon as we get them all wrapped. I know how you loved a big pile of presents. I think you’ll like the one we picked out for Mom; it seems like the sort of thing you would’ve gotten her if you were still here. And I sent her out with some cash on your anniversary to get new clothes, just like you always did. I even put on a Daddy voice when I told her to go shopping. Hope you got a kick out of that.

 

I haven’t sorted out who’ll make the salmon salad yet this year, but I promise it’ll be on the table. For that matter, we haven’t really sorted out what we’re doing for food at all this year; maybe we’ll go with a finger-food plan like last year, so nobody has to spend all day in the kitchen. That was a really good plan on your part.

 

I’ve found a whole bunch of presents I would’ve gotten for you this year, too: there was an I Dream of Jeannie complete box set at Costco, and a couple pairs of pajama pants, and an Eeyore with a Santa hat. I’m also thinking about getting new little Christmas monkeys for Bean and Little Dude, and saying they’re from you. I hope that’s ok.

 

I’ve gotta tell you, though, I’m having some trouble really getting into the Christmas spirit this year, and while I absolutely love you, I’m pinning this pretty much entirely on you. We all knew this day would come sooner or later, but you’re never actually prepared for the first Christmas without your Dad (or Grandpa, or husband). I love you, I miss you, but screw you forever for this. We’ll do all the Christmas things because life goes on and Christmas still happens, but it’s going to be seriously weird not having you in your recliner. Wherever you are, I hope you have one helluva good time, because the rest of us are just going to be muddling through thanks to you.

 

You’re right–I’m angry at you. Officially, really, totally angry. And sad. And lonely sometimes, and I get periodic cases of Poor-Me-itis. I understand that bodies just stop working, and that yours had taken more than is really reasonable for anyone, but maybe you’d like to come down here and explain how the hell we’re supposed to do Christmas without Superman at the helm.

 

Actually, scrap that. If you’re coming down here, I want a hug. Just one more big Daddy hug. It’s all I want for Christmas this year, and I can’t have it. And I hate that.

 

Love you forever anyway. Merry Christmas, Daddy. I’ll have an extra helping of salmon salad for you.

 

All my love,

–Sissy

 

This is what Christmas is *supposed* to look like.

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4 Comments

Filed under General Musings and Meanderings

4 responses to “Merry Christmas, Daddy

  1. Tricia,so movingly put,my Niece. I remember those same exact feelings when our mom died 24 days before Christmas. My heart goes out to you,Tricia,because you had a really great Dad who showed you all what a great Dad really does! Thanks for being a good example of taking care of the family as difficult as that can be. My prayers for all of you to somehow feel Jesus’ love wrap around you guys in His deep comfort. I defintely remember Larry taking a full love of christmastime by how beautifully he and my Sister Patty always decorated your home. Do whatever your heart compels you to do…it’s the right thing to do.

    • We’ve got one single strand of tinsel that Mom saved from Grandma R’s tree, and which we put on our own tree every year while I was growing up. Just before N and I got married, she gave me a box of Christmas stuff–ornaments, the star, etc–and that one piece of tinsel was in there, wrapped around an ornament Mom herself had cross-stitched from a kit. This year the piece of tinsel is draped around the star (so we don’t lose it!)…so in a way, Grandma and Dad are fighting it out for top billing on the tree. I think that’s pretty accurate, lol.

      Thank you for keeping us all in your prayers; we’ll do the same for you. I know you and Dad were especially close, so I imagine you’re feeling the sting this year too. *hugs and love*

  2. Sopran00

    Oh, Honey. When my Nana died it was at Thanksgiving time. That Christmas was super hard. It gets easier. The empty space is still there but it’s kind of fuzzy now. Not so gaping and sharp. And I know that a grandmother is not the same as a parent. I just want you to know that the pain will recede. Or we get used to it. I’m not sure which it is but the end result is the same. Hang in there. I wish you and yours comfort, peace, and health this holiday season.

    • We lost my maternal grandmother just a few weeks before Christmas, back in 1989; and you’re right, it does get easier eventually. You never stop missing them, but you stop crying about it every day…and then you stop crying about it every week…and then you stop crying about it every month. Right now I’m pretty much down to “major holidays and dates of importance”, which is definitely progress; I can’t imagine a holiday (or any other day, for that matter) on which we don’t miss him a bit, but I know that one of these days we’ll blink and realize that we made it all the way through a holiday season without anyone weeping all over themselves. That’s just never the case in that first year.

      *hugs and love to you and your family*

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