Today has been five years since my Dad left us. ....and not like the time he didn’t know my little sister was sleeping under their bed and left the house. ...while me and my mom were out an about.
We passed his truck going somewhere and both parties seemed to realize there was no little kid with the other. Oops. Good thing no one had cell phones to call CPS on them.
But he left us in the sense that he left a hole in our lives and hearts that will never be filled. Five long and short years ago.
Today, people sent texts or brought flowers, or shared a Facebook post. And it reminds you that no matter how long ago the person you loved left this earth - their impact remains.
I’ve had a great year. I’ve been nominated for awards. And won an Influential Woman of the Year award. I’ve done things at work that were important to me. I’ve made strides in my personal relationships. And I’ve done it all without him to call. Without anyone sending me a picture of the bathroom floor and saying: guess what I’m doing?
No one (worthy) has made a dad joke that made me roll my eyes while I stifled a laugh. No one has helped me mock that my sister in the right way. Remind me to tell you the story about how, as a teenager, she wanted to be validated when she was funny so she could work on her humor. Only she could overthink that. Especially since she’s already hilarious. But we did spend that summer giving her checks or minuses when she attempted to keep up with us. ....don’t worry, it worked. She can make you laugh almost as much as me. Almost. Don’t get wild here, folks.
No one will be here in a few days to make me go out in Christmas Eve and buy something totally unnecessary, just so we can see the people around us panicking as they try to finish (and some of them start) their shopping. Once I realized that this was part of why he enjoyed going out last minute - since we were always done before then - I was definitely sure that the hustle and bustle of last minute Christmas shopping was maybe only half people who need things and half people like him who are just sadistic enough to want to see their people at their worst and most frantic moments.
We did Christmas with the family yesterday, since we are leaving for vacation shortly. One of my gifts was a year membership to the Shed Aquarium. My dad would have loved that. And not just because once they asked him for help raising mudskippers. (True story.) But he also would have reminded everyone how my favorite gift as a kid was a pair of homemade stilts. Adjustable. And way too tall to be safe for a short child like me. But I spent hours stumbling, then walking, then running on those things up and down the driveway. ....to be fair, that skill has never come in handy. But the determination it taught me and the lesson that homemade and thoughtful gifts are ones that stay with us forever has stuck with me my entire life.
I know the holidays aren’t easy for people who have lost someone they love. And I know this from a family member, a child, and a friend standpoint. The empty chair will forever remind us of what we are missing. But sometimes, remembering what we are missing are the best holiday moments.
I hope all of you who are missing a person at the table have loving and supportive people like mine around them. I hope you remember all the good moments this year. I hope you hang their ornaments on the tree. That you hug their little ones tight and for just a moment longer. I hope that the tears also bring moments of laughter. And sometimes I know the laughter can bring the tears. In those cases, I hope you have someone there to share it with. I hope Christmas is a time you still love. That you make new memories and don’t feel bad about the happiness that will also creep up on you the same way the sadness does.
On the bright side - I am going on vacation with my family. And I know my mom won’t leave me at home accidentally.
