Tuesday, December 18, 2012

What I Want For Christmas

Hi guys. Glad to see you're all still (somewhat) here, and haven't given up on me. Believe me when I say that I appreciate that more than you'll ever know.

I've had a lot of ideas bubbling up inside the cauldron I call my mind, and I haven't gotten any of them down on paper. I know it's stupid. After all, how can I be a writer if I can't write? They sit up there, waiting patiently (and sometimes throwing temper tantrums) for me to get them out so they can tell me their stories.

But when I sit down to do it - nothing. I know I've complained about this before. I'm trying to get it taken care of - really I am.

But with Christmas around the corner, I thought I'd share with y'all what *I* want for Christmas. What I would say to Santa if I sat on his lap, and he asked me if I could have one thing in the whole world, what would it be.

It's impossible. I know it can never happen. And yet, I want my Daddy back.

Every day of the year without him is hard. But summer time, and Christmas time are the two hardest seasons for us to go through. I can deal with the other holidays. I can deal with Easter, and Thanksgiving. I can swallow back the tears on his birthday, my birthday or my moms.

But Christmas without him is so damn hard to deal with. He used to pretend he was Scrooge. He used to Bah Humbug all over the place. He'd grumble about putting the tree up, and sorting the lights. But I'd always catch him adjusting an ornament, or just staring at the lights with a tiny smile on his face.

Christmas Eve morning meant a trip to the fish market to pick up the calamari, the mussels, and the fish for dinner (after a 7am stop at Tim's for coffee) It's a huge Italian market, and that means it just doesn't carry fish. It also has all the fixings, mixes, herbs, and utensils you could possibly need. Nestled in the back is a little jewelery counter, along with shoes and purses. A few aisles down there's picture frames, and china, and serving bowls. A one stop shop for any European occasion. Dad and hubby would get the food, and mom and I would shop the aisles. After we were done, it was another stop at Tim's for another coffee, before heading home to get ready for dinner.

Dad and hubby would read the paper, relaxing and enjoying the rest of their coffee. Mom and I would clean the kitchen, tidy the house, and make sure all the gifts were wrapped. Around four, the family would come over and we'd have drinks and appetizers, and then it would be fish and chips and pasta for dinner (no meat!). Afterwards, it was off to my aunt's place for caroling.

And the next morning, Dad would be the first one up, putting the carols on the stereo (in our house it was always a battle between The Carpenters Christmas and Jimmy Buffet's Christmas Island), and getting the shots ready. One shot, every Christmas morning. Whiskey usually. He always had a different one to try. Once my brother got there with the kids, and my grandparents were there, it was time to shoot the whiskey and get to the presents. And that is when he'd sit back, look with pride on his family and watch in silence as my mom played Santa's little helper and handed out the gifts. Him and mom were always the last ones to open theirs, and he always had a satisfied smile on his face as he gathered the remnants of tissue and wrapping paper into the biggest garbage bag he could find, as if he had single handedly provided the perfect Christmas once again.

And I think he did.

This is our second Christmas without him. And it's so damn hard. Harder than last year was. I think last year we were all still in a bit of denial and shock. This year, it's turned to full on grief.

I'd give anything to have him back with us, sitting in his chair, with his silly elf hat, or fuzzy Santa hat on his head, smiling and laughing with the rest of us. I know that he's with us, I know he's in our hearts. But you can't hug a memory. And I really could use a hug from my Daddy right about now.

All these years of living with him and mom turned us into best friends, not just father and daughter. And at times, like this last year, when life isn't making sense, and it all seems to be going wrong, I could really use my best friend.

So Santa, as I sit here, knowing there's a million things in this world that need fixing, in the wake of the recent horrific tragedies, I'm going to be selfish, and ask for one more day with my Daddy.

Because I'm still Daddy's Little Girl.

Thanks for listening guys.

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