Rockefeller Center 2025

Dear Dad,

Your grandson wanted to go into the city on Saturday to do all the things you used to do with him on our annual outings to Rockefeller Center. It’s hard to believe that you first took him to see the tree fifteen years ago. Where has all the time gone? He had only just learned to walk, but he was way too little to walk far, so we carted the stroller onto the subway and pushed him through the city. He was too little to eat out, but you took me and Mom out to lunch and Gary sat with us eating whatever I had packed for him that day. He was too young to remember, but you kept taking him, every year, until COVID stole you from us.

Now, I think G3 still likes going into the city because it reminds him of you. Saturday morning, before we left, G3 looked through the bin of hats and gloves that were once yours, looking for something to wear, a piece of you to bring with him. He found a winter cap and when he put it on, it fit perfectly. He also tried on your jacket, but it was way too big. He’s much thinner than you were. Along with your hat, he wore a shirt and tie, and a quarter zip. He looked so grown up, so much older than when you last saw him. I still cry when I think of how much time you’ve lost with him, how much happier he’d be if you were here, if he still had you to look up to—to talk to.

Our first stop was St. Patrick’s Cathedral. G3 has not outgrown his joy when it comes to lighting candles. But inflation has hit everything hard and the Cathedral now wants three dollars to light a tiny candle that probably costs no more than twenty cents when purchased in bulk. AND they’ve added an electronic option so you don’t have to have any cash on you if you wish to light a candle to accompany your prayer. I can’t help but wonder what Martin Luther would think…spending three dollars just to skip to the front of the line to have your prayer heard. But with all those candles flickering throughout the church, even the metaphorical front of the line must be crowded with prayers, petitions, and people begging for personal miracles. G3 lit several candles, including one by the creche. The golden retriever is still watching over baby Jesus, and I think of you when I see him because you were so happy when he was added. 

The crowds in Manhattan were worse than ever. Each time we had to cross the street, it was like pushing through a moving wall of people. No one watches where they go, no one says excuse me or sorry if they bump into you, no one cared that they nearly knocked an old woman down. Twice people pushed through Mom as if she wasn’t even there and I watched her teeter. It was so bad, G3 and I ended up taking turns demanding that she hold onto our arms so that we could protect her. We used to protect G3, worried that we’d lose him in the crowd or that he’d jet out into the middle of the street. We used to worry about him, but he’s become the tall and strong one, so it’s his turn to look out for his grandmother.

The tree is pretty, as it is every year, and when we took a picture of us with it in the background, it was impossible not to think of you and how you used to hold G3 for a picture every year. He’s still shorter than you were, but he won’t be for long. 

After the tree, we stood in line for the Lego store. I think the line gets longer every year. Nona let G3 pick out the Lego he wanted and she will wrap it for Christmas. It's just one more tradition you started that she has continued. One more way to keep you with us, to allow G3 to connect with you even though you are no longer here. Gary chose a Lord of the Rings Lego so he will now have a complete set. 

Nona took us out to eat at Bill’s Bar and Burger. It was the last place you took us when we went into the city for Christmas. And because of that, G3 insisted on going back. The food isn’t anything special. The menu consists of over priced burgers and the restaurant is so crowded there is no space or privacy. People hovered and pressed in on us from every side and the line for the bathroom was nearly a half hour. There was nothing appealing about the restaurant except for you, the fact that G3 remembers that last lunch in Manhattan, and the promise of more because, if you had lived, you would undoubtedly have kept up the tradition.

The trip into the city exhausted Mom and the crowds nearly smothered her. She said she’s not sure she’ll be able to do it again next year. It’s gotten too much for her. I wonder if maybe your absence weighs on her a bit heavily, the memories of what it was like before our family was fractured. The subway ride home only exacerbated her exhaustion. No one gave up their seat for her. I used to give up my seat for old people all the time. It angered me to see young people in their teens and twenties sitting while mom used up the last of her strength to hold on and stand up. It’s rude and inconsiderate, but an accurate commentary on society today; the selfishness that was exposed during COVID and that persists today.  

While in New York, St. Nick also visited G3. He was happy to see his stocking full of candy and cash—to spend as he chooses. This afternoon, after I shoveled—we got about three inches of snow—and G3 and Nona went to church, we made cookies. Another tradition G3 was adamant about continuing, insistent upon doing in New York even though we could just as easily have baked the cookies at home. 

This morning, when I went out for my early morning walk, I thought of you. The last time we visited you, it snowed. It was a weekend so much like most of the weekends we visited. There was no indication it would be the last. No indication that so much would change; that we would have to learn to live and adapt to a world without you. Snow makes everything prettier, but in New York, it magnifies the emptiness you left behind.

I still miss you!