A CHRISTMAS TALE The last time I saw my father was 30 years ago on Thanksgiving Day. He was in a nursing home after suffering a series of strokes following the death of his wife, my mother, two years prior. With each successive stroke, his memory grew fainter and fainter until, finally, mercifully, hed forgotten that he ever lost her. She was 12 years his junior and we all expected shed outlive him, not the other way around. I went to visit him in a nursing home and he had no idea who I was. So I did what I always did when visiting him or any of my relatives, I sat down at the piano and began to play and sing. I sang Daddys Little Girl, one of our favorites. He stared at me throughout with little to no recognition and when I sang the last note he looked up and said, Youre Carolyn. Yeah, daddy, Im Carolyn. Music. It does so much more than soothe the soul. As I was leaving the nursing home, I stole one last glance at my father, who was partially paralyzed from the last stroke. He was slowly raising his right hand to his lips and blowing me a kiss goodbye. That was the last time I saw or spoke to him. At 8:00 a.m. on December 25 1984, I received a call that dad had passed away in his sleep at 12:01 Christmas morning. I barely had time to register when my then six-year-old son, Bryan, came into my bedroom rubbing his eyes asking me if Santa Claus came. I picked him up, brought him out to the tree and watched him open each present with the amazement that only a child can muster on Christmas morning. I put away my sorrow, celebrated the day with my son, and knew that the flight arrangements, the funeral, the request for time off work, could all wait until the next day. This day belonged to my son. Today my now 36-year-old son and I will celebrate yet another Christmas together. Ill prepare my mothers traditional homemade spaghetti and meatballs, well sing Christmas carols, watch A Charlie Brown Christmas and continue our own family tradition. And somewhere in the back of my head Ill hear that younger version of myself singing Daddys Little Girl and feel the kiss my father sent my way before I said my last goodbye. I loved my father. He would have been so proud of the woman Ive become and the man his grandson has blossomed into. And so goes the great circle of life. Youre the spirit of Christmas, my star on the tree. Youre the Easter bunny to mommy and me. Youre sugar, youre spice Youre everything nice And youre Daddys Little Girl.
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 20:25:31 +0000
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