Bittersweet

I've always anticipated Christmas with the intensity of an 8 year old. What can I say? It's a bad case of arrested development, I guess.

For me, Christmas is all about home and family and friends. And presents. And food. And decorations. "Oooohhhh! Sparkly!"

I love decorating, though I really haven't done much this year. I love finding just the perfect presents for each family member...that's the most fun of all, I think. The food...well, obviously I love it all.

And...well...I love getting presents, too. There. I admit it.

For some reason, I've managed to pretty much ignore the rampant commercialism that surrounds Christmas. Oh...sometimes, I just have to say, "What the fuck?"...but mostly I just let it slide. Why bitch about something you have absolutely no chance of changing?

For the last 20 years, though...well...Christmas has been bittersweet.

Twenty years ago today, I lost my dad. It brings tears to my eyes to type that. On the other hand, thinking about what he'd say about what I just typed makes me smile.

I can just hear him..."You LOST me? What the hell?? What did I teach you about losing things??."

See, dad had a rather...ah...unusual...sense of humor. You couldn't have a serious conversation with him if your life depended on it. It absolutely infuriated my mom...which always made me happy. Ah, but that's a story better left for another time.

I could get all maudlin here and tell you what a great guy my dad was. How scary-smart he was for only having a sixth-grade education...and how funny...and how stubborn and mule-headed. And I could tell you how much he'd have found a kindred spirit in da Zigster...he'd have loved him. And I could tell you that he would have adored his great-granddaughter every bit as much as he adored his granddaughter.

But he'd hate it that I got maudlin.

So I'll just say, "I miss you somethin awful, Daddy".