|Mom and her beautiful smile on Christmas Day|
December 25, 2011
I am missing you especially a lot today as I have been buying Christmas presents for the kids, my wife, and Dad. This is something that you LOVED to do with me, and now that this is the first Christmas that I am doing it without you, I think about your absence with every purchase and with every decision.
Christmas lists were a thing with you. Dad was far less insistent on getting the list far ahead of time. You always wanted it before Thanksgiving if you could get it then. With the modern world such as it is and two day shipping, the lead time is not so necessary. I avoid stores like the plague, and I am sad, in some ways, to admit that I do most of my shopping online. In fact, for Liesel, simply to make it as easy as possible for her, I gave her one wish list on Amazon. She can click a few buttons and be done.
I miss your attention to detail. I am sure I will write about this subject several times over the holidays, but I miss how you shopped for just the right things for our stockings, our stationary boxes, and for each gift, which was lovingly sought, found, purchased, hidden (often for months), and then carefully wrapped and placed under the tree.
I cannot match you standards, especially since these weeks leading up to holiday are the busiest for me. As a teacher, I have mounds and mounds of grading to do, and as a student, I have finals to study for and huge projects to complete, as I did yesterday with my dread Java project (which was actually quite fun). I have not even started putting our Christmas card together, let alone having it printed, stuffing envelopes, and sticking on stamps.
I am not done Christmas shopping, so this process of missing you will go on, and since so many other triggers exist in the holidays, I know it will go on for some time.
I do understand that my experience is not unique. I know of many friends who have lost their parents, their spouses, loved ones, and they feel the same loss, they have the same pain, they have the same absence in their lives. I know. We go on, and we adjust; we all do. It's not easy, and it's a bit surreal.
Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you.
Talk to you tomorrow, Mom.
- Days ago = 162 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1512.14 - 19:02