NPM – 22 of 30

Christmas Day

what I remember:
walking to Starbucks with my sister & her husband
tripping and falling flat on my face into a yard on the way home
when I told my dad I’d fell, the way he took my hand, patted it, made sympathetic noises
knowing it would be my dad’s last Christmas
not knowing that when I’d purchased one of his gifts – a 2018 page a day desk calendar
my dad requesting that we open our gifts, taking turns, one by one, until we were done, then he would open his gifts
my nephew, surly and mumbly, a bit strung out, seemingly numb to what was transpiring
the way my dad clapped and laughed when I unwrapped my gift to him
the calendar had become a tradition, he would often post the you-might-be-a-redneck
one-liners on his Facebook page
when he went in for a nap, the way the sun shone into his room like it was
just an ordinary day
the sound of George Jones loud on the stereo as he drifted to sleep
not being able to take one minute more in that house
calling B from the drugstore parking lot to break down
wandering the aisles of Walgreens, answering honestly when the cashier
asked me how I was doing, taken aback by his kindness, embarrassed by my tears
but unable to stop them
being grateful I was able to tell my dad that it was my honor to help him

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One Comment Add yours

  1. josefa says:

    I love this picture, he was so happy we were all around him . I don’t think I quite realized it was his last Christmas …. Thanks for your words Lizzie.

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