Thinking of Christmas' Past...
My dad and I would always find the biggest tree together, just the two of us. We'd agree somehow out of hundreds of trees and pack it into the trunk to get it home. I remember a few years it was so big, we had to return it for a smaller one. Once it was set up in the family room of whatever home we were in at the time, it was my sister's job to finish the tree. I'd organize the ornaments with their appropriate hangers and unravel the lights. But placement on the tree was done mostly by my sister. We'd play the old records (yes, records) or I would be playing Christmas Carols on the piano. My dad would sit with me and sing the base part but always make his way to the melody. Then the antique nativity set whose pieces were about a foot tall would go under the tree as I would put the tinsel on the branches. My dad would put just a few lights out front of the house and the big candy cane on the banister. The house was filled with garland or greens and the smells of Nativity. As we grew older, it changed a little but not by much 1993.
My father made Christmas in our house. He had his annual team Christmas party at our house where 40+ engineers would come and visit. Growing up there were always Christmas festivities, parties, food, singing, piano playing. My dad always made and purchases more food than any home would possibly need. Our home became a bright celebration of God's Son's birth! On Christmas Eve, no matter where we were living, my dad brought energy and life to Christmas and brought cheer and celebration to our home. I don't remember a time back then, when even during difficult years traveling from one place to another, that we didn't have the brightness of the Nativity in our home.
My dad was my best friend who I fought with all the time. We were so much a like that some times, we just could not live with each other. He knew my logic and just understood me. He was my hero for so many reasons. He was my mentor and my protector. My father was far from perfect, but I was "ok" because he was around. I read these words and they do not adequately portray the unique relationship I had with my dad.
On Saturday December 11, 1993, my father went out on his own for the first time and got the Christmas tree for the house. I was living on my own at that time and was busy that day (there is more to that then I'll write here). I think my sister was going to go help decorate it. However, on the morning of Sunday December 12th, my father headed downstairs as he usually does bright and early. His routine was to wake up before the sun and work at the kitchen table doing bills or designing whatever it was he had in his head at the time. That day, my sister found my father in the family room face down with foam around his mouth. He had a brain aneurysm that rendered him brain dead instantly. Thanks be to God we were told he never felt a thing. The ambulance took him to the local county hospital and 30 hours later, the life support was turned off.
Christmas changed that year. I changed that year. I can still envision walking into the house and seeing the bare Christmas tree waiting for its decorations. I could smell him and see the beginnings of Nativity growing around the house. It was missing something. My life was missing something. Every year during this time, I miss my dad all the more. Not only because it is the anniversary of his death. But because he was such a part of our family celebration of Christ's birth. He was so much a part of me.
I cannot say that I've celebrated Christmas the same way and with as much joy as I have back then. The past few years I have grown to focus more on the affect of Christ's birth on our salvation than on making the holiday the way it was when my father was alive. I will celebrate the Nativity with him again someday, God willing!
May his memory be eternal. I love ya dad!