Angel, I Have Heard On High

Merriest of holiday seasons to you, my friends!

There are so many stories to share of my adventures from the past weeks and of those to come. Often, I find myself writing every detail of every moment, thereby taking longer and longer to finish a post. This will serve well when it comes time to edit and select which parts should be kept in, and which don’t serve the story.

In the meantime, it is Christmas day. It has been a special one because I am unexpectedly in Colorado with my sweetheart–thank you Kathy and Don.

Originally, I was set to spend the holiday with friends in the L.A. area–thank you Soo and Terry! But the universe decided I needed to be here (a special story in itself).

Regardless, wherever I was meant to be, it was inevitable that the pain would come–the heartache of missing Daddy.

In a thrift store in Los Angeles a few weeks ago, not sure what provoked it, I suddenly found myself thinking about Daddy and the pain of his absence. I wanted to talk to him about what was going on since I’d arrived in LA. I wanted to call him and share about the good things, the difficulties I was overcoming, the friends I was making, and get some words of wisdom that only a Dad can give on the challenges I was facing.

Feeling the emotion overwhelming me, I went to a corner of the store hoping to hide the tears from anyone who might walk by me in the aisle. I found myself near tables covered in discount holiday decorations. If I’d had any chance of holding back the tears, it was crushed with the reality that the holidays were coming and no matter how hard I might wish it, Daddy wasn’t here.

As a woman brushed behind me with her cart, I feigned interest in a plug-in animatronic Mrs. Claus. As I reached for the figure, I knocked another item to the floor. The woman stopped and picked it up and placed it on the table. “I do that all the time,” she kindly chuckled. I smiled back and turned so she couldn’t see as I fought the tears.

Gazing over the items, but not really looking at anything specific of the huge array of items from classic holiday angels and light-up candy canes to the not-so-classic Precious Moments Santa Clauses, I decided it might be best to leave.

Though I had no interest in purchasing any Christmas decorations, I took one more moment to glance around at the holiday offerings when something caught my attention among the cluster of lighted trees and plastic wreaths. I stepped closer to the edge of the table and read:

I paused and re-read the words to make sure I wasn’t imagining what it said.

Standing in the store, I closed my eyes and felt the tears press from under my lids and roll down my cheeks.

This angel statue could have said anything. ‘Special Mom’, ‘Special Grandmother’, ‘Special Friend’, ‘Special Pet’.

But it didn’t. It directly referenced “Special Dad”, which Daddy so very much is.

I was reminded that he is here. And that I can talk to him whenever I need to and share whatever is on my mind.

For a moment I considered whether I was meant to buy this ‘message’. I took a breath, and decided I had received all I needed and perhaps someone else who might be hurting during this holiday could gain comfort from this angel in their midst.

There truly are angels everywhere. Whether they are in the form of ethereal, invisible spirits floating above us, a woman picking up something from the floor for you, an invitation to spend Christmas with another family, a gifted airline ticket to be with your sweetheart, or a knick-knack with the encouragement you need to get through the holidays, they’re there.

Embrace them.  Be open to the messages that are there and can help you get through the toughest of moments.

And coming from a ‘Daddy’s Girl’, if your Daddy is still here, give him extra hugs.

Merry Christmas, Daddy!

‘Twas The Night Before My First Christmas Without Daddy

In a matter of hours I will wake up to my first Christmas morning without you here, Daddy.

There have been some challenges lately. Some tougher than others. Some moments rougher to get through.

I’ve cried. I’ve screamed. I’ve laughed at memories. I’ve smiled as I’ve felt you watching over me.

And even through the more difficult times, here I am. And no matter how I’ve felt, or what I might think I wish for, tomorrow is Christmas.  So I’ll say this to you.

My First Christmas, 1964

Thank you, Daddy. Thank you for always wanting to make the holidays special.

Thank you for doing all you could to bring joy to my siblings and me.

Thank you for being the most loving, caring parent a child could ask for.

Thank you for the moments. Thank you for the lessons. Thank you for the Barbie townhouse even though I might not have deserved it. Thank you for your kind heart. Thank you for your generous soul. Thank you for the gift of your laughter.

Thank you for Christmas morning hugs.

There won’t be a day that goes by that I won’t think about you. And with each thought, I will continue to be forever grateful to you. I will remember the laughs, the tears, the supportive father-daughter discussions, the casual chats about our days. The silly jokes we both shared.

Thank you, Daddy. I miss you. I love you.

Merry Christmas, Daddy. Love, Princie.

Our last Christmas together with you here. 2015

F*ck Christmas

And while we’re at it- to hell with New Year’s and the next weeks.

Let’s ignore the calendar and not use any dates until well after Valentine’s Day because right after the holidays it will have been one year since Daddy left.

Get it, already? I don’t want Christmas. I don’t want New Year’s Eve. I don’t want January.

I don’t want any of it, including all the days leading up to the holidays.

To hell with it all.

Yes, I know I’m ‘blessed’ with people who love me and care about me.

I know ‘things could be worse.’

I know other people have it worse.

I know Daddy is looking out for me in Heaven.

I know I should be grateful with all I have, including a roof over my head.

I know I had a good many years with Daddy here with me.

I know if I just smile the world should feel better.

And yes, again, I know the sun will freakin’ come out tomorrow.

But you tell that to my lungs that get so tight from trouble breathing I might pass out.

You tell that to my head that aches so deep from trying to not think too much about Daddy not being here.

You tell that to my eyes that have to hold back the tears any and every time of day that I have to stifle them until I can go into the bathroom, lock the door, and try to take some deep breaths to hold off until the end of the work day.

You tell that to my memories that keep reminding me of times I worry I pushed Daddy too much. Like when I encouraged him to read more and I think he felt he’d let me down so he said, “Sorry, ‘ll try to do better tomorrow.”

You talk about “just smile”to my glutton-for-punishment soul as I blare holiday music in my car everywhere I drive so I can sob away from anyone else at each flashback that emerges of Daddy playing his vinyl Christmas albums in the living room, and baking cookies with him that turned out looking very little like Santa Clauses and Christmas Trees, and the red frosting was always pink and didn’t taste very good. We laughed and ate them anyway.

Tell that to the tears that the saleslady sees as she tries to hurry and still be cheerful while pretending she doesn’t see them streaming down my cheeks as I’m trying to pay for the chocolate I’m buying to subdue the pain, because Daddy’s favorite carol, O Come All Ye Faithful, pipes in over the speakers throughout the store.

You tell that to my oh-so-tender heart that keeps waiting for the call from Daddy.

“Hi, Princie. It’s me, Daddy. I was just calling to see whether or not you are coming home for Christmas.”

Daddy, I don’t know that I’ll ever be home for Christmas again.

Try to tell me something I don’t already know. Maybe I’ll hear you, maybe I won’t.

I know this is a ‘moment’. But this moment really sucks.

Sorry, I’ll try to do better tomorrow.

Oh, Mariah

Months ago I mentioned that Mariah Carey was directing a made-for-TV Christmas film shot in my hometown.

It was only a number of months ago that they had lined the main street in our city, Wyoming Avenue, with fake snow, and lit up the store windows with decorations. So I did not expect the film to air in 2015.

However, it did. Boy did it need more time in the editing room. Like, forever.

Since I had DVR’d it and it was directed by a woman, I decided to watch it. It is my #13 (unlucky #13!) of #52FilmsByWomen.

Though I did not expect an Oscar-worthy film, I looked forward to seeing Wyoming on the little screen. So I set up my cozy spot in Dad’s living room, with my dinner, snacks, and a bottle of red wine.

It was made for TV. It was a little Christmas movie. And Carey was directing. I really didn’t expect much.

And even then, I was totally disappointed.

There is no reason to watch this movie.

And that is coming from a woman who appreciates poorly-done movies as learning lessons.

I watched the entire thing, begging, praying for something to make me glad I’d sat down, spent the $14.00 on the bottle of wine, and sat through the agony.

Never was there a redeeming moment.

Regardless of whether you are a Mariah Carey fan, you grew up in Wyoming, Ohio, you like Christmas movies, or you think there is nothing else on, trust me, do not watch this. You will not see enough Mariah for it to be worth it. You won’t see Wyoming much at all except cheating one side of the pastry shop that makes for awkward scenes, and a part of a town block.

And believe me, there is some college football game from decades ago, or a news story on why you won’t have to worry about earwax on Mars, or some gadget being sold on Home Shopping Network that is more interesting.

Remember the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark? Indiana tells Marion, “Whatever you do, don’t open your eyes! Keep them shut!” to protect her from the evil force that guards the ark.

I’m protecting you. Even if you have been strapped to a chair with A Christmas Melody looping in front of you–close your eyes tight and keep them shut! Sing a ‘A Million Bottles of Beer On The Wall’ over and over, as loud as you can.

If you watch A Christmas Melody, you owe me a bottle of red wine.

In the New Yay, I’m Going To…

Yesterday Dad’s weight hit the highest it’s been in months. I gulped. What would this mean for how he would feel?

He wasn’t excessively tired, which was good.

He was fine with going to exercise class. Another check mark.

Earlier in the morning I’d considered going out to lunch with him and my sweetheart after his exercise class, but was concerned since he likely had a lot of fluid in his system that could make his breathing uncomfortable.

Then, when my sweetheart sent a text as we arrived at class, suggesting going out to lunch, I realized, if Dad said he was up to it when class was over, we should go for it.

One thing though, Dad usually isn’t hungry that early. And his nurse and I have been considering whether the times of day he eats his meals could be affecting his sleep patterns. So I didn’t want to force him to eat earlier.

The problem? Where would we go that he would enjoy and that would use up a little time before eating? I had to think fast because it’s much easier for Dad to head out the door when he’s downstairs already from his class instead of going back to his apartment.

Got it! Krohn Conservatory! They have their holiday display.

I was excited at the prospect, and texted the suggestion to my sweetheart so he would pick us up out front.

As I walked down to the auditorium after the half-hour class, and looked at the grey skies outside, I started having second thoughts. Dad’s weight was so high, what if the outing put a lot of stress on him? And he’d been up until after midnight the night before. What if he started to feel drained and miserable?

The thought of being the one to make a decision that could put him through pain or discomfort is really tough. Sometimes, I probably err on the side of caution because I don’t want to subject him to any discomfort.

Maybe we should put it off and go another day, I considered.

Other thoughts came to mind then–my sweetheart is only in town a couple more days, Dad and I would both enjoy the display more with him along, and I wasn’t sure how long they keep the holiday flowers and trains up.

Alright. I’ll leave it up to Dad. I’ll suggest it and see how he responds.

He said, “Sure, if that’s what you want to do.”

Okay, we’re on. And if he seems tired, we’ll just head home.

Turns out, no need. The three of us enjoyed walking throughout the conservatory and looking at the trains, the poinsettia tree, the reproductions of Cincinnati landmarks created from wood, and the fascinating different varieties of exotic and tropical flowers and plants.

Dad often has told me his Mom used to call him “Schmalzy”,  so it was fun to see the festive display called the ‘Schmalz’ Family Holiday Village, named after Larry Schmalz, who brought the joy of Christmas to many in the Cincinnati area.  Good for a hearty belly laugh from Dad.

To be honest, going to the conservatory isn’t something my sweetheart and I would choose to do. But with Dad there, and seeing how much he appreciated all there was to see, it was a magical afternoon.

After walking among the sites, he even had energy to go out to lunch at The Rookwood, a restaurant neither of us had been to in years. We sat in the cozy setting of the old pottery building which has an inspiring history.  Started by Maria Longworth Storer, it is “one of the first manufacturing companies in the United States to be founded and headed by a woman”. It attracted all levels of artists to be part of Maria’s dream to cultivate “a spirit of freedom and liberality”.

Dad got a treat out of watching a little girl swinging on the wooden swings on the porch of the restaurant, and enjoyed the grilled cheese of the day with chicken and spinach, and a bowl of tomato bisque. The perfect meal for a gray day.

This wonderful, magical afternoon would never have happened, if I’d “put it off”, thinking we’d go another day,” inspiring a New Yays Resolution–

We never know whether there is going to be a better day, or even another day. We can’t afford to put things off. So I won’t let second thoughts get in the way of what could be, and we’ll do it now.

So if Dad says he’s up for ‘whatever,’ that’s what we are going to do!

Yay!

Hearts All Aglow

Merry Christmas!

Though today was off to a sleepy beginning for Dad, I figured, “Heck, it’s Christmas! A good day to get some extra sleep if you want it.” So I didn’t urge him to wake back up when he’d laid down after breakfast.

Late in the morning he woke and came out to his living room. My sweetheart made a pot of coffee and the three of us had fun watching, A Christmas Story.

It is always nice when something holds Dad’s interest, but the out-loud laughs are priceless. And A Christmas Story provoked plenty of them. Who wouldn’t love being the recipient of a “big award” like the dad’s sexy fishnet stocking leg lamp?

After the movie ended we announced it was time to open presents. Dad said, “I didn’t get any presents for anyone.”  We took care of that, and had a sweet, modest gift exchange.

A couple of weeks ago Dad asked me what time it was and I showed him my wristwatch. Then I asked him if he would like to start wearing a watch again.

I don’t where along the way he stopped wearing one. Likely somewhere between going in and out of the hospital and rehabilitation last year. Or, a band broke, or he needed a new watch battery, and replacing it just never happened.

I looked a couple of places for a watch for him, but didn’t have much opportunity to go out and shop before Christmas. Especially with the dizzy spells I’ve been experiencing.

And it needed to be a certain watch. Genuine leather band. All the numbers present on the face, and they had to be big.

Then I recalled that a number of years ago I’d given him a Timex Indiglo watch when they first came out. I think it might have been for his birthday. I remember how we all thought it was so cool that the face would light up.  And as Dad wore it, we’d keep coming up and pushing the crown in to see his new watch glow.

So last week I looked through his dresser at his house to see if by chance he still had the watch. Even if it needed a new battery or replacement strap it would be fun to update it and give it to him all over again.  But no luck.

I mentioned to my sweetheart, while he was in Colorado still, that I needed to figure out a time to get to Nordstrom Rack. I was confident they’d have something affordable and that would fit my needs.

Turned out, knowing I wanted to get Dad a watch, though I hadn’t told him any specifics, and knowing my health issues, he’d gone out and found one.

I hadn’t given him particulars I wanted in the watch, so I asked him over the phone for details on the timepiece. I could hear him smiling as he said, “I just thought about what you would want.”

Part of me was a little concerned. I knew specifically what I wanted. Could someone else really pick out the kind of watch I’d want to gift Dad?

See for yourself. And yes, it glows.

Hope you are as fortunate as me and are having a safe and wonderful holiday with those you love, and who love and respect what matters to you.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Ah, ’tis the season of giving.

I feel like every day I am giving.  And I’m grateful for it.

But this morning I told my sweetheart how I feel guilt over not getting gifts for anyone this year for Christmas. Not even my nieces and nephews.

When I give gifts, I like them to be personal. Not generic. But that takes time, thought, and energy.

Currently dedicated to Dad’s care, that’s the one gift I don’t have–time.

My sweetheart is very much about gifting experiences (tickets to events, shows, getaways, etc.) and giving without a schedule. Material items should be gifted when you think of something someone needs, or because something you see makes you think of them.

Not because there is a certain date on the calendar.  Or there is a perceived obligation to fulfill a gift list.

Or the space under the tree is supposed to be full of presents.

The season says something different though. The radio, television and Internet have been telling us since before Thanksgiving, it’s time to buy, buy, buy. ‘You don’t love your family and friends if you don’t camp out at the mall before Black Friday and live there until the 24th to make sure you get everyone on your list the newest, hottest greatest dust collector their home is not complete without, sure to bring their Oscar-worthy oohs and aahs.’

Because what says love more than a pre-wrapped package from the “Gifts Under $10” shelf at the department store?

Because I must be very afraid–what if someone gets me something?  There’s guilt.  There’s stress.  ‘Tis the season–really?

The other evening my sweetheart gifted me the evening of him hanging out with Dad. I think it was a gift for Dad, too, because he had an authentic Guys’ Night out at one of his favorites, Century Inn, where he spent three hours chatting and enjoyed a dinner of popcorn shrimp.

In the meantime, two of my dearest friends, Lisa, visiting from out of town, and Suzanne, gifted part of their holiday season with me, as we all three got together for the first time in years for a Girls’ Night, enjoying a fabulous new local place, Tela. We got to gab over wine and dinner and share many details of our lives we often don’t have time to get into in our treasured, but too-short, phone chats.

Those are the moments, the gifts, that matter. Those are the presents that don’t sit on a shelf.

This is a different kind of Christmas for me. This is a different lifestyle. I don’t have a job. I don’t have regular working days with evenings and weekends off. I don’t get to see my sweetheart at the end of every day. I don’t get to be with friends very often.

What I do have is Christmas with Dad, a visit from my supportive sweetheart, special time with my family and friends, days filled with Dad’s jokes.

With this realization, my sweetheart helps me see–I’m already giving all that I can.

Therefore, I will breathe, do my best to release the guilt, and give myself this holiday.  I will spend time with my family and my sweetheart enjoying the spirit and love of being together.

I wish that for all.

The Lights of My Life

Last Thursday I happened upon an article mentioning the Cincinnati premiere last night of Carol, starring Cate Blanchett. The movie was showing at 5:00pm with a red carpet gathering at the Cincinnati Club.

The film was shot locally in the Spring of 2014. So this screening was a big deal. Wow! What a fun event I was sure it would be.

Hmmm…should I try to go? It would mean a lot of things. I’d need to see what aide was on duty or see if my brother was available to hang out with Dad and make sure he got to bed comfortably.

I’d need to find a dress and heels last minute.

And before any of that mattered, I’d need to know if there were tickets available. I emailed the woman whose contact information was provided before thinking too much about whether or not I should attend.

Friday morning I received a response from the woman at the film commission, who was hosting the event. Yes, there were a few seats left for the screening and space for the reception after.

My brother said he was available and would be happy to spend that evening with Dad.

Now things were starting to get real. I was getting excited at the prospect.

Being the annual fundraising event for the film commission, tickets were a bit pricey–$200/admission and movie–particularly for someone who isn’t currently employed.  But what a great opportunity it could be to meet some of the people involved in making movies in the Queen City.

While Dad was in exercise class Friday morning, instead of working on my blog post as I usually do, I called my sweetheart to chat with him about whether to go or not.

We both brought up pros and cons, and went back and forth.

I didn’t think Blanchett herself would be there, but even if she were, what would I say to her?  Be the quintessential, unoriginal fan? “Love your work.”

Try to be deep and knowledgeable? “How were you able to dig so far into your soul to prepare for shooting that scene at the end of the second act?”

Though I write when I can, I’m not currently developing a script. I’m not in the middle of a production. I’m not pursuing production gigs. As a director and writer, in my current lifestyle and situation, I have nothing to market.

That isn’t the only reason I would attend the event, but my time and money are limited, so I would want to feel like there was something I could gain from it. And maybe there was.

But I made a different choice. After talking to my sweetheart, I realized that if I was going to spend money and time, it should be directly toward the development of my own movies.

Sure. Why not ask my brother to be with Dad on an evening where I book myself a room somewhere a little outside of town for a retreat (can you say, ‘room service’?) and allow myself privacy to write and develop in a calm, inspiring space.

The premiere could be inspiring too, but why get worked up over an event where I would get dressed up and go have fun schmoozing, but that wouldn’t likely benefit me beyond that.

Invest in myself, not in the indefinite. There will be a time for that, and I look forward to it.  But it wasn’t last night.

So instead, Dad and I spent the evening driving around listening to Christmas music on the radio and looking at all the holiday lights and luminaries. Sorry, no hot chocolate, it was too warm.

But the star of my night last night was Dad. He agreed it was a wise choice and reminded me it’s good to know people that might help down the road, but, before then,  I need to dive in for ‘me’.

“Merry Christmas! This is my one-horse open sleigh. Ha-ha.”

When we got out of the car, he said something that made me laugh, so I asked him to repeat it for the camera–that’s the kind of directing that inspires me for now.

 

Gingerbread Women

Today, this Saturday of the holiday season, Dad and I had quite the agenda. Breakfast. Chill. Lunch. Chill. Mass. Dinner. Then, in the evening drive around during Light Up Wyoming in my hometown drinking hot chocolate and enjoying all the wonderful holiday decorations and lights.

This morning, I also received a text from my cousin, (on my mother’s side) inviting me to a cookie get-together at my aunt’s house. And how fortunate–it was just minutes from Dad’s apartment. I let her know I’d see how the day goes.

Dad’s been pretty tired today, so the ‘chill’ part of our plans have worked well for him. He did get up for some lunch, and then made his way back to his recliner. He was very happy to get cozy for an afternoon nap and he dozed off.

I woke him gently, just enough to tell him I’d be back in time for Mass, then headed out to the gathering.

It was a short visit, but it was so nice. I walked into my aunt’s charming, sweet house decorated for the holidays, a dining table covered in treats, a cozy living room with music of the season playing, and was greeted by  several generations of dear women in my family.

Some of them I haven’t seen in years, some I’ve seen occasionally when I visited Ohio during the holidays, a few I’ve seen once or twice since I’ve been back here, and some of the younger girls there I’d never met. And there’s my cousin, Stefanie, who invited me, who I had fun getting together for lunch with recently.

There they were all sitting, furniture pushed to the edges of the room to make as much space for each new woman that arrived…sisters, aunts, nieces, mothers, daughters, cousins, grandmothers, great grandmothers. Chatting about everything from holiday plans for the upcoming weeks to trying to figure out what time of day Stefanie and I each was/were born. Though our lives are different and we haven’t always stayed in touch, we have always had a special bond. And it all started when we were born one day apart.

A ‘Cookie Bake’ is what they called it, but it was something more significant than everyone bringing their choice of baked holiday treats.

What a beautiful energy. Part of me wanted to sit next to each woman and talk to her about her world and get to know her better. Each of them with their own stories of joy, heartache, laughter, challenges in life, and everything in-between.

Centuries ago, all women lived in villages where they wouldn’t have to ‘get to know’ each other, because they were already part of each others’ daily lives. They were a built-in support system.

Some of these family members have a similar connection and are there for all the moments of each others’ lives.

Although I’m not part of these women’s lives on a regular basis, I can appreciate, and am grateful for, the bond among them and that they gather together to honor their special relationships. And it means so much that I am welcome whenever I can be there.

Driving home, I wished I’d taken a couple of photos because I knew I’d been inspired to share a post about it.

Imagine the important women in your life, whether you haven’t seen them in eons, or you are in touch everyday, maybe it’s time to gather. Think of all of you in one cozy room, balancing plates of snacks and desserts on your laps, excitedly sharing news, laughing as you recap the good ol’ days, and simply ‘being’ in the presence of each other, embraced in the light of being together.

Cookies are a nice touch, if you feel the need for something to put on the invite. Whatever, I know being together  was the most important ingredient in this holiday sweet treat!

 

(P.S. I wrote this earlier but couldn’t post because we went out to see the Christmas lights. I’ll fill you in tomorrow on the bright evening Dad and I shared.)

A Very Merry Dad and MaryLee Christmas

Daddy was in charge of the Christmas tree every year. He’d go pick it out, and so often I’d say, “Daddy, it’s so small,” and he’d laugh. He knew, by the time it was standing in the same tree stand we had for years, was decorated, and had the star on top, it would be plenty big.

Once it was placed where in our house it was going to be set for that year, Dad and my older brothers would take care of making sure the lights worked and wrapping them around the branches.

In the meantime, the rest of us kids would be digging through all the ornaments looking for our favorites so we could be the ones to hang them on the tree. Some years my mother would have a specific plan for the tree like one color of bulbs, or gingham bows, or something else to give it a sense of design–her specialty.

Once the tree was ready, we would go to town finding the perfect place for each ornament. It had to have the right amount of visibility based on its size and shape, not be too close to other ornaments, and be on a branch that could support it properly. This would go on until the novelty wore off and it was just a matter of filling in holes with the remaining decorations.

In recent years, Dad didn’t bother getting a live tree. He had a little artificial tree that had been purchased to decorate the bay window in his house to be visible from the outside. Some years the live tree would be placed in other parts of the house and it was always so joyful to see Christmas lights through the window.

The little artificial one  was low maintenance since the lights were kept on when it was packed away after the New Year had been rung  in, and it added a nice touch of holiday spirit from inside and outside the house.  This became the tree put up in his dining room each holiday season.

Fast forward to this Christmas, I am here to share with Dad the holiday season. When I brought his little tree into his apartment, he smiled and said, “Oh yeah, that’ll be the perfect size.”

When the lights wouldn’t turn on, after removing them and figuring out one of the three strands was burned out, I was the one to wrap the lights on the tree this year. I asked Dad if he wanted to help, but he chose to stay curled up under his blanket in his chair as he sipped hot coffee and listened to Christmas music.

When it came time to decorate, I asked if he wanted to help. He said I could handle it. I could, but I’d hoped he’d want to be part of it.

Oh well, part of our new norm. Which means, anything that I could rely on in the past to be how it was going to be, like Dad always being the one to put the lights on the tree, is no longer to be counted on. No way of knowing when he will want to participate and when he will want to sit by and enjoy the view from his recliner. But that’s okay. Our moments are going to be how they are going to be. So I hung the decorations as Dad watched.

What a variety of ornaments and baubles to hang! Antique glass ornaments, classic balls, egg-shaped, homemade, Styrofoam, plastic and every other imaginable material. And a few random porcelain and wood ones picked up at craft shows and such over the years.

But there was one ornament I insisted Dad put on the tree. He laughed when I showed it to him. Then he got up and stepped over and hung it on the little tree he has enjoyed for so many years. It sums it all up, my joy of being here with Dad who is such an amazing soul, and why it means so much, in just two words.

Though this little bit of holiday cheer in the form of a fake tree was ‘something’, I always wondered in past years if he missed having a live tree to decorate and to enjoy its wonderful pine smell. It probably seemed like a hassle since there are no young grandkids that would be visiting during the season, and he’d go to my brother’s house for Christmas, so no one was visiting his home.

Because Dad is a man of simple means, he is very difficult to buy for.  So, I was excited when a few years ago, when I was in Colorado, I came up with the idea of shooting a video for him. And I was happy my sweetheart appreciated the idea. He was so sweet and patient to shoot it on the spur of the moment, no idea what we were going to capture, and do a little bit of editing.

We even looped a minute of the final tree with holiday music under it so Dad could have a ‘tree’ on his TV and listen to his favorites.

The idea was that I would take Daddy along as I went to purchase a tree. The video is here on YouTube. In it you will see why the ornament Dad hung on the tree is so special. I hope you enjoy my Christmas Tree adventure for Dad and that you have a beautiful holiday season whether you are home with your loved ones, or miles away.