Christmas this year was always going to be a little odd. My decision to semi-cut off my trumper family members would have whittled down my visit counts, and with CityDad in Portland, that took 2 stops off my regular holiday rotation. Add in Covid and the big gathering I almost never skip was of course cancelled.
. My plan, initially, was to buy CountryDad a new set of pots and pans, and drive up to the ranch and surprise him today with a christmas day visit, and one of my pork loin roasts for dinner. It wouldn't be much, but I figured at least he (and Thor) wouldn't be alone.
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And then 13 days ago, he died. I'm realizing now- as regular gatherings are cancelled, and part of my family is semi-estranged by an unbreachable political chasm, that the "regular" christmas thing I'm going to miss the absolute most- is Dad.
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That comes part and parcel with his side of the family of course- (we'll be zooming this afternoon at least) and dad being overrun by the grand nieces and nephews, dressed up in tiaras and boas, children lofted upside down by their feet and tickled to happy tears..Most of the 'little' cousins are of driving age (or will be soon), so I imagine this christmas, like last, would be slightly less rambunctious- but it turns out that seeing Dad is intrinsically linked to my feelings about Christmas. Before he moved here, it was the one holiday we could be sure he'd visit for, and while he and I have had our differences, and conflicts- seeing CountryDad at Christmas is... well, it IS Christmas.
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And while he was always a clueless gifter, dad was reliable when asked for something directly. My first Canon camera, my first off-camera flash, a laptop for photo editing, putting up with a trip to Aaron Brothers to "help" me pick out frames... when we were up at the ranch last week, each wall of the living room carried one of my own photographs.
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One thing in particular that gave dad a leg up over mom- they were both supportive- but mom's support always had these purposeful undertones, whereas dad let me lead the way and followed behind cheering as I went.
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Mom pushed music, music, music, music. There was no room for anything else. But dad, well- he'd pump a fist in the air as I hit a high note, but he'd also give me a camera for christmas and help me pick out frames during a visit. He was a quiet man, but he was always behind whatever endeavor I pursued. I found my business card (2 different versions) among his papers.
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He never volunteered the information, but there was always a steady, constant willingness to support whatever I was passionate about.
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My vision of Christmas is a gift I already know about, my father settled into a corner of a sofa bedecked in plastic jewelry, bejeweled tiara, pink headband and a gaggle of children heading his way to be "tortured."
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This year was always going to be different, but until 13 days ago- I still expected it to include him. And that's a hole that won't soon- or ever be filled. The virus will end. Family holiday gatherings will resume. But there will still be an empty spot on the couch.
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Today I'll spend time with KW and Tom; the 3 of us having a small christmas lunch, and that will be lovely. I'll zoom with the Cousins and Aunt Betsy. And all of us, in 5 different homes, in 3 different towns, in 2 different counties- will feel an empty space on our respective couches where my quiet, funny, witty father should be.
