It was nearing 9:30PM, and I had only a few more minutes before I finished my dinner and headed back to work. It was dark, and as I stepped outside, I was suddenly surrounded by Christmas music and the lights from the recently lit Christmas tree. I made my way over to Starbucks to get a better view of the tree, and to gather my thoughts. I spoke out loud now, softly, almost in a gentle whisper.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. It shouldn’t be like this, you know? I love you.” Those were seemingly the only words I could utter, in what seemed like eternity. Staring at those lights, listening to Christmas music, I found myself desperately wishing that my dad could be there, that I could say one final thing to him. That would never be enough of course, but it was all that I could hope for.
There’s something about the holidays that makes grief stronger. Maybe it’s the Christmas music, the way everything is lit up in a beautiful way, or maybe it’s just the fact that during these special times when we gather with family, there will always be an empty chair there to remind us of what we are missing.
I’d like to think that this is going to get better with time, that somewhow this pain is going to subside over time, but I seriously doubt that’s going to happen.
In the meantime, it’s time to take in to account all the things that I do have, and all the family members that are still around.
After all, one day they simply won’t be anymore.