This is not Christmas

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Christmas began in the beginning of December. I would watch you work hard putting up all the twinkling lights around our house. I would drag decorations out of the basement and place them throughout our living space. We would wait for a day our entire family was free in order to go pick out the perfect tree. We would walk through a strategically placed forest of Douglas firs until we agreed upon the perfect one. And only then would you start sawing it down. All of my siblings looking on proud of the perfect Christmas tradition.

A few days later, you were struggling to untangle the lights which would be wrapped around this tree so bright. And although you hated this, it was all part of the process. Once the lights were up, we gathered round with ornaments to place. And when the ornaments were on in the perfect spots. You would place an angel on the top.

We would wait patiently until Christmas morning. We would all wake up in anticipation for the Christmas breakfast you always made. We filled our bellies and laughed. Because the presents can wait, family is more important. After breakfast was done and the dishes were clean. We would once again gather around the tree. Presents got passed around and pictures were snapped. We all said thanks as we unwrapped.

I would look across the room to see your face. To see how proud you were of the family you had made.

That’s what Christmas was. And now it will never be the same. I haven’t felt Christmas in my heart since my dad passed away.

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