Christmas Without You
by Rob Warr
Chapter 8
Christmas 2005
It's been ten years since that wonderful last Christmas with dad. Unfortunately, the doctors were right and dad passed away in March of the following year. He lived his life to the fullest in the short time he had though, surrounded by loving family and friends, and lived as normal a life as possible.
Even at the end he went out without any theatrics, passing in his sleep, mom laying beside him and though we grieved as any family would, there was peace in knowing that he'd died in his own bed, with the love of his life beside him, his family nearby, and nothing left undone or unspoken between us.
The funeral was held on a Thursday, the weather especially warm and pleasant for March, and the church was packed almost to capacity. Folks we hadn't even known before came up to us telling us what a wonderful man dad was and what an impact he'd had on their lives.
Despite having turned 11 in February, I was still a little kid and had a hard time dealing with my dad's loss, and would have for quite some time. Truthfully, even today, in my third year of college, I still find myself drifting back to that time and feel the sting of tears in my eyes.
Eric continued to be my comforter, my life preserver in a sea of pain and sorrow, and even today he is able to sense when I'm hurting and come to my rescue. Yes, we are still together, best friends, constant companions, and lovers.
For the seeds sewn that year, that year that tested my metal beyond anything I have had to face since, would eventually sprout and blossom into love. I think we both knew we were destined to be together from the start. We just didn't know how deep our connection would become or dream that we could be more than just friends.
Our moms must've seen it long before us, for when we turned sixteen and came out to them, they just laughed and said, 'bout time.' Sammy and Linda didn't seemed too surprised either, though both were straight. Linda was engaged by then to a great guy named, Les, and though Sammy wasn't dating any one particular girl, he never seemed to be without one.
Grandma and grandpa Brown gave us their blessings as well, for even though they were from a generation that wasn't as open-minded as our mom's, they were used to prejudice and understood us as well as anyone could. What was important to them, they said, was that we love each other and treat each other fairly and kindly and the rest would take care of itself.
These days Eric and I attend the same college, I on a sports scholarship, for as it turned out I was quite good at baseball, and Eric majoring in music, his education paid for by his grandparents who had managed their money well over the years.
Eric's mom eventually married a nice man named, Ike Evans, who had two kids from a previous marriage and suddenly Eric had a brother and a sister. The kids got along well and they even tolerated me, though we never became as close as Eric had with my sis and bro.
As I write this, I'm sitting in my old room, mom downstairs puttering around as always. It's snowing, and we're expecting Sammy and Linda at any minute. Eric is visiting his grand and his mom and new family, but he'll be coming by later to share the evening's festivities with us.
Mom never remarried, never even dated that I know of, despite us kids' encouragement. She said there was only one man for her and to marry again would sully his memory. Besides, she said, when I die I don't want to have to explain to your father who that other guy is. She always laughed at that, but we never gave up trying to convince her to at least date.
I can see the snow out the window from my desk, my room being pretty much the same as I left it when I went off to college, full of wonder and bullshit at age 18. All our rooms were kept for us, and even though we only used them a few times a year when we came to visit, it was nice to see that some things remained the same in this world of constant change.
I remember that Christmas, our last with dad, and sometimes I think it was the best Christmas ever. Of course there was much sadness to follow it, but at the time there was great joy, warmth, and love, and we were living for the moment. I know dad was, because he'd accepted that he didn't have many moments left to enjoy, and he wanted to make each one count. We did that as well, and I can honestly say I have not one moment of regret. I spent as much time with dad as I could, we shared our love, never shy about expressing it verbally and physically, and in some ways our relationship seemed to strengthen as dad grew weaker.
Dad never whined about how unfair life was or blamed God for his affliction. To the very end he was grateful for what God had given him, his family, his friends, and the chance to live a good and decent life.
Dad was a shining example of how to live your life, no matter how long or how short, you had to make the best of it and give it all you had. I'm comforted by the fact that as a family we offered him the same love and support that he offered us, and that we are all better for it.
Mom was the glue that held us all together during that time, but we were her rock when he passed, and she was finally able to grieve. For she'd saved her grief and her self pity and concentrated on dad and his needs and in just loving him as much as she could in the time they had together.
I'm reminded of the words of one of dad's colleagues who told a story about how dad had helped one of the staff where they worked. The young man had recently lost his dad and had missed several days of work and was afraid he was going to lose his job. Our dad had taken the young man into his office and talked with him for over an hour, learning his story and finally sending him home, with pay, for however long he needed to adjust to his loss and help his family cope.
We were that grieving, coping family now, but we'd had the best role model possible and I like to think we did him proud in the way we did so. We celebrated dad's life rather than mourn his death, and we walked away from it feeling better than we had any right to.
I just heard the front door open and close and stamping feet in the foyer. Sammy, no doubt, then I hear voices and realize it's both my siblings, arriving at the same time. I feel no need to rush down to greet them, I want to finish this narrative and spend the rest of the evening with Eric and the family.
Dad, if you can see this up in Heaven, for if anyone ever deserved to go to Heaven, it's you, then I want to say all the right things.
First of all, I love you more than I can express in words. I tried to show it in my actions and my hugs and kisses and I think you got the point. Second: I miss you so much. Nothing will ever be the same without you, and though the pain has lessened somewhat, it will never go away.
Dad, you should be here, sharing our Christmas with us., Our silly Christmas sweaters, our family traditions, our hugs and kisses, and most of all, our love.
Dad, I'll do my best to enjoy this Christmas with Eric, with Sammy, with Linda, and with mom, but dad, Christmas without you just isn't the same.
Many thanks to my editor Michael, to my readers, and to Tim for maintaining this wonder site for internet writers. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all. Rob Warr 2024
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