Ho Ho Ho

Or so it goes. 

I used to decorate for days on end. Loved Christmas time. Maybe it was because my mom had always made sure we had great Christmases when we were growing up. Even though she didn't really like Christmas, she used to make sure it was one time of year where we felt like anything was possible. 

Dad's birthday was Christmas Day and over the years, our Christmas become Christmas Eve night. Later years we would have some type of birthday for dad. I always thought he probably got cheated out of his birthday when he was a kid, but growing up in Newton Stewart, Indiana in the 30's and 40's in a house that had no running water and with at least nine living brothers and sisters probably didn't allow any birthday celebrations no matter when it might have fallen. 

Today I was upstairs in the office printing off a study guide for a real estate brokerage class when I looked into the desk drawer and found this picture. 

I have no idea why this picture wasn't in the big box where all the other printed pictures are, but there it was, reminding me of what I looked like when I was 32, freshly married and sitting with my gorgeously handsome new husband. 

A mix of emotions. This was our first married Christmas together. We had met in October the year before, engaged that next January and married in May. Yeah, it was one whirlwind episode.  I think about how little I knew about my husband. If I had known him longer I would have realized that making a decision, even a tiny one takes him forever. 

If I had known that, I would have been shocked that he was even considering getting married that quickly especially given that he had custody of his girls age 9 and 13.  Yet we both knew it was right. 

I had just built a small house for myself and had never considered that I would live there only 10 months before moving to the another side of Indy to start a new life. The Christmas before this picture he had given me a pretty diamond ring, not an engagement ring, but it was a pretty amazing gift given that we had only known each other three months. 

The events of the year between that first Christmas and this one was a bit overwhelming. 

This picture was taken at his sister's house during their family Christmas party. 

What I most remember is how hard to was to smile and make everyone believe it was a happy Christmas.  I remember leaving the room a few times to keep the tears at bay and the overwhelming despair. I didn't want everyone in my new family to think I was someone who was completely broken. 

When I look at this picture of these two young, in love people I think of one thing. 

My father was dying. 

He had about six weeks left to live. And I was fighting against all reason to convince myself he would beat the liver cancer. 

We spent one last Christmas with dad. 

And Christmas has never been the same.  I wish it was different. The combination of his Christmas birthday and those horrid last days during his last Christmas just won't allow me to go back to enjoying this time of year anymore. 

This post turned darker than what I intended. I have the best family I know and we do still enjoy our Christmas Eve, a tradition we refuse to give up no matter how massive our family grows.  It is THE Chrsitmas tradition that means the most. We don't sit around and mourn over the imaginary empty chair. We've grown past the grief, so please don't misinterpret this unexpected post simply because I saw a 22 year old picture today. 

It's the idea of feeling like this was taken yesterday and recognizing those young people and how quickly we have changed so much that our great niece had no clue who we were. 

When her mother showed her this pic tonight, she thought her favorite uncle Bob was "a young Santa". And so I had to be Mrs. Claus. At least that makes me smile.