This is the second Christmas since my Dad's passing. All I want to be able to do is have a conversation with my Dad. Just me and him in a room with two lazy boy rockers watching a football game. Him drinking his Diet Rite and I drinking my Mug Root Beer. Just the two of us.
The Christmas decorations would be simple like that little Charlie Brown Christmas tree he had on top of his big TV. It was a plastic tree with red berries on it. Ugliest thing in the world. But he liked it. For many years it was his only decoration. Or at least the only one I remember.
He'd be wearing his jeans, t-shirt, flannel shirt, slippers, eating cashews and offering some to me. We wouldn't talk much. Just sit and watch the game. I'd look around the room and see him everywhere. Paperwork, knick-knacks, cigarettes, the smell of his cologne or after shave, for years that after shave never changed. That's one thing he wasn't wearing the day I said good-bye when he was in the crematory box. No smell.
My dad was different when he stopped drinking. He wasn't sober and his choice in women didn't change but at least his eyes had life in them for a short time. For a short time, I had a dad. And for the second time before his death, I lost that dad.
All I want for Christmas is a child's wish...to be able to give her daddy one last kiss, one last hug, receive one last tassel of my hair then let him go and both of us be at peace with each other. The little girl inside wants to be held tightly by her daddy just one more time, just like he sometimes used to do. Where I felt the safest and the strength of my daddy. Even if there was beer present. It didn't matter. My daddy was holding me and I could close my eyes and be safe in his big strong arms even if just for a few minutes.
How I treasure those memories.
