Dear Dad...

 I wrote somewhere before that I used to talk to my Dad on Christmas Eve when my [ex] husband was on duty as a Firefighter/Paramedic.

One of us would call the other and I'd sit in front of the Christmas Tree and gaze at it while we talked. I'd tell him about our latest Charlie Brown Tree and he'd laugh. We usually got a tree we could stick in the corner and not decorate around the whole thing. It worked for us. One Christmas my ex sliced through his ring finger--> down to the bone while using a sharp knife to cut the tree from the top of the Isuzu Trooper.

That warranted a trip to the ER. Neighbors watched the kids, I watched them sew ex hubby up in layers. That was a memorable Christmas. We didn't have much money then and things were pretty tight.

But the thing was, we wanted to make Christmas magical for the kids. Always. 

Still, I'd have a glass of wine and talk to Dad. I described the tree and what we did for the gifts. We discussed his life, my life, and everything in between.

I sat and sipped with the phone cradled on my shoulder [it was attached to the wall! Remember that? That was before they even made cordless phones!] . 

The tree lights twinkled and I admired the colored paper chain that the boys had made in school. The boys' had decorations they'd made in grade school that graced the tree. At the time I don't think I appreciated them as much as I would now.

We talked of life. We talked of marriage. We talked of love. Dad had an undying love for Mom even if she didn't reciprocate. That's life. He told me about his mistakes and regrets he had in his life. I told him about how much my boys meant to me. I told him about my relationships with the horses, goats, and chickens we had.

We talked for a long time. 

It was our traditional Christmas Eve chat.

I even continued it in my second marriage and move to this little farm. 

Dad got a kick out of hearing the fact that I'd go out and talk with the mules and donkeys on Christmas Eve and celebrate their birthdays on New Year's Day.

It has been many years since I've talked to him. But in my mind I still call.

Dad.
I collect horse ornaments. They are beautiful. Not as beautiful as the paper chains.

Dad.
I still go out and talk to the mules on Christmas Eve. I only have a few of them now. They like their carrots.

Dad.
I think of you on each Christmas Eve even though it has been many years since we talked. I imagine what our conversations would be like now.

Dad.
I still miss you even if it is almost 20 years since you died.

Dad.
Since I still miss you. I will have conversations in my head every Christmas Eve and I will tell you what is on my tree.

Dad.
I am happy and content. Did we ever think that would happen? Well it did.

Dad.
I still miss you every day.

Merry Merry.