Hook’s Note: I was planning on following in the virtual footsteps of so many of my fellow bloggers and list the fifty things I’m grateful for this year… then I started to become overwhelmed by the holiday blues.
I’ve been dealing with guests who are not only hostile, cheap and miserable, they’re downright abusive. Literally. I watched a woman abuse an old man in her care (I’m not sure of their exact relationship), and when I tried to take steps to stop it, I was shut down by red tape and hotel protocol. I don’t have the words to describe how I’m feeling right now.
Caring for my father-in-law for so long has left me with a new respect for the elderly, and so this situation has left me deeply disturbed. But here is a post I wrote a few days ago. I hope you find something of value in it.
Well, it’s almost Christmas for those of you who support the notion of a morbidly obese, white, golden-aged male who breaks into millions of homes to drop off mostly unsolicited toys to your children, all while stretching the space-time continuum to its breaking point.
Yeah, I’m one festive bastard, aren’t I?
To clarify, my holiday spirit is bubbling just below the surface of my consciousness but I fear it may stay there. Don’t get me wrong, I intend to embrace Christmas for all its worth, for the sake of my family of course, especially my daughter. She misses her grandfather terribly and this will be our first Christmas without his presence.
And trust me, that presence used to fill every corner of our house.
I can still see Dad’s daybed in the corner of our once-repurposed dining room. It belonged to my grandmother but in an act of cross-family recycling, it became his, and it served him well as his condition worsened.
He watched his beloved Murdoch Mysteries from that bed.
He made us laugh from that bed.
He fought for every breath and became my hero in the process from that bed.
The daybed has been moved to the attic but Dad’s spirit is as apparent as ever. I… you know what? I can’t do this.
I’m carrying on, but the truth is, I feel like breaking as I type this.
Watching the greatest man I’ve ever known – a man who taught me how to be a man, a husband and a father – leave this world for whatever lies beyond has gutted me. But I carry on, day in and day out. What else can I do?
Our lives are fleeting, it’s true, but if we’re lucky we’ll make an impact on those we love and the world around us while we’re here and we’ll be remembered fondly when we’re gone. If the measure of a human soul is the ripples of mourning its passing sends out into the world, then John Fisher was worth more than any man I’ve ever known.
Merry Christmas or whatever holiday/deity you celebrate, everyone. Now step away from the screen and go spend time doing whatever makes you happy. And try to do it with people you love. Like them boys from Liverpool said, all you need is love, mates.
See you in the lobby, kids…