Christmas in August

Maybe one day I’ll be able to cobble together a poem about what it’s like to listen to your dad weep while watching a YouTube “cozy ambiance” Christmas vignette and listening to Christmas music. I feel he’s being a tad dramatic. I mean no, I don’t believe he will last to Christmas, so yes, I understand he is crying knowing he won’t see another Christmas.

Which has always been my dad’s favorite time of the year.

Actually one of my favorite memories with him is a scene a bit like the one he’s watching. My dad liked (likes? He’s still alive but won’t be able to do this again) going out on Christmas Eve just to be among last minute shoppers. One year I was his “elf” assistant — we picked up a few things here and there, looked for a few wishlist items that were a “nice to have” but weren’t at the top of my brothers’ lists, but mostly we just strolled around enjoying the Christmas-ness.

And at the end, we stopped in at the Corner Bakery for hot chocolates. And like a scene out of a movie, it started to snow as we sat by the window sipping our hot cocoa.

If it had been my mom, she’d have freaked out about the roads and hurry we have to go before they get worse, but it was my dad. He just sat and watched and smiled.

Maybe I take it back. Now I feel shitty for thinking he was being a little dramatic about mourning himself not seeing another Christmas.

Dad has taught me how to indulge in what makes life fun. He overindulges, and I have too historically, because neither of us acquired the restraint and Catholic school discipline of my mother.

And sure, that overindulgence has often been detrimental – to my health, finances, whatever.

But sometimes it looks like not worrying about having anywhere to be before the roads get white with snow. Because what’s the point of Christmas if you get a chance to sit by a window sipping hot chocolate with your daughter (or dad) watching the snow fall while folks hurry along in their coats and scarves and hats and gloves, clutching their children and their shopping bags?

The YouTube video is currently playing O Holy Night.

Every second I don’t sit with him, I feel guilty.