Day 286

Nine months ago, I took Dad to the hospital. It was the last time I ever saw him. I’m still haunted by the fact that I never gave him a hug. I never told him, one last time, that I loved him.

Christmas this year has been incredibly difficult. Christmas Eve especially was hard. This was the first time my dominating emotion on Christmas Eve was sadness. For Italians, Christmas Eve is a bigger holiday than Christmas Day. Since Mom is Italian, we’ve always celebrated Christmas Eve with my parents. When my son was really little he used to tell his friends Christmas came a day early for him. And my parents always made sure it was a special day for him. Dad always greeted us at the door, tossing his arms wide, hugging us, and wishing us a Merry Christmas. From the moment my son and I woke up, we couldn’t wait to get on the road. We couldn’t wait to get to New York. This year, I woke with heaviness. Getting out of bed was a challenge. Mom’s house seemed so empty and quiet without Dad. We tried to play games, but they reminded me of Dad which made me sadder. Mom tried to make the day festive, but she too was buried beneath sorrow. If it weren’t for my son, we probably would have canceled the holiday. In prior years, I always made my parents a college for Christmas that included all the fun things they did with my son throughout the year. This year, along with no tree, there was no collage. We also didn’t sing. It was the first time in my memory that Christmas came and went without us singing after dinner. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew if I tried I would only have cried. I apologized to my son and promised that next year I’d try my best to bring back that tradition. But Dad had the best singing voice, without the songs would have been out of key. How could I sing Silent Night, his favorite Christmas carol, without him?

Christmas Day wasn’t much better. Although we woke to my son’s excitement which made me smile, I still felt Dad’s absence. In prior years, we’d FaceTime Mom and Dad so that they could watch my son open his presents. This year, it was just Mom. Only her voice was in the background as my son tore open his gifts.

A few weeks ago, when we were trying to come up with Christmas gift ideas for our son, I suggested a real bow and arrows. My son loves shooting at Cub Scout camp, and a few times, in prior years, he had asked for a real bow. Each time I told him he couldn’t own a weapon until he was 21. But the last few Cub Scout camping trips were canceled due to Covid so he didn’t get to shoot at all this year. I half expected my spouse to greet my suggestion with a vehement, “No.” I was surprised when she embraced it enthusiastically. When my son opened his bow, he was super excited. His face — pure joy and surprise — said it all. He later told us it was one of the best Christmas presents he’s ever gotten. 

To go along with my son’s archery equipment, my mother-in-law gave us a one year membership to a local shooting range for Christmas. Yesterday, we took the required two hour beginner course so that we could use the range. We learned proper safety protocol, the different types of bows we could use, and proper technique. After the class, we stayed for more than an hour to shoot some more. My son seems to have a natural skill. For having only shot a few times, his accuracy was impressive. My spouse had far more fun than she expected. In fact, she loved it so much she used her Christmas money from her father to buy her own compound bow. I wanted a bow too, but they didn’t have the recurve bow I wanted so I have to wait for it to come in.

This evening we had an enjoyable zoom chat with my cousins on Dad’s side. I “met” another one of Dad’s first cousins and his wife — cousins whom Dad really wanted to reconnect with. Life is strange. Nine months ago, Dad was supposed to reconnect with his family, instead he ended up in the hospital where he died. But I’m glad I’ve gotten to know my distant cousins, especially since the cousins I was close to in my younger years threw me overboard when I married a woman. It’s nice to have to have a connection with family, which is probably why Dad had wanted it so desperately.