Reflecting On Christmas

Yesterday was a bittersweet day for me. For several years now, my family has drawn names for Christmas, so we don't put ourselves into bankruptcy buying for everyone in the family. As soon as someone turns 18, they're part of the drawing if they want to be. If they don't want to be, they don't get a gift. It may be harsh, but it's the reality of economics.

This year I just had a feeling that Dad had my name. When I went over to my brothers yesterday morning for our "traditional" Christmas breakfast, he pointed to two packages and told me they were mine. From Dad. My sister was going to ship them to my house, but G told her to send them to him and he'd let me decide if I wanted to open them with all of them or take them home. Needless to say, I stood there and cried. Then my brother and two nieces and sister-in-law all came over for a long group hug, which made me cry harder. (It doesn't help to know that my sister-in-law is soon to lose her dad, who's struggling with late stages ALS. But at least she won't be getting presents from him from the grave.) I got myself together for a couple of hours, then talked to my mom on the phone and tried not to get too emotional. When I left my brothers, I cried the entire drive home--35 minutes.

I was supposed to go to a friend's house for dinner yesterday afternoon, and I just couldn't. I needed to be alone because every 10 or 15 minutes or so a random thought would go through my head and I'd start to cry. And that's just something I prefer to do in private. Plus I'd prefer to get some of it out of my system before I have to go to work again.

I miss you, Pop. I love you.