Six Christmases

Six Christmases.

That’s how long you’ve been gone.

I realized tonight, while checking in on Gabe, that he’s never had a Christmas with you. I know I knew that—but it hit me hard tonight. And that’s probably why I’m still awake at 3:51am.

He’s never experienced the joy of a Christmas morning with you. Of the laughter and stories. Of watching your favorite movies and singing your favorite songs. Even Sutton only had two Christmases with you, and she doesn’t remember them. Eva remembers you most, but she was only five.

They don’t remember your laugh, your smile, your hugs. Sometimes, I even think I’m starting to forget. That’s the part I hate the most:

The longer you’re gone, the less I feel you in the every day moments. And the more I feel your absence.

You’ve missed so much this year—like the last five years. But this last year has been so much more than the ones before. And I needed you. So often, I needed you, daddy. The loss of 2021, the heaviness of the burdens has been so much to bear. Oh, how I miss you.

We’re going to watch “It’s A Wonderful Life,” and I think the kids are old enough to actually understand it this year. We’ve talked about how it’s one of your favorites and how special it is. I think they are excited. It’s been a few years since I’ve been able to watch it. I think I’m ready.

I’ll be thinking about you when Clarence says “Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”

You’ve left a big hole, daddy. Merry Christmas in Heaven. Tell Jesus Happy Birthday for us.