Dear Dad

I miss you, nothing more, nothing less. I just freaking miss you so much now it hurts. I'm trying to get into the spirit of Christmas for your Grandchildren but this year it's harder and I'm not sure why. I don't want to wrap their stocking stuffers, I don't want to remember what I was doing Christmas Eve 2003 when Chris called me to tell me you'd "gone". This year I hate stocking stuffers, I think Marc needs to take over the job of wrapping them up, wrapping them brings back memories of that phone call and I don't want to remember it. I want to remember Christmas Eves of years past when Chris and I were younger and you and Mum would take us to the sweet shop next to where you worked and we would go into that back room and just walk up and down the aisles looking at all the sweets, the chocolate Father Christmas's and chocolate baubles that you would buy us to hang on the tree, the mini Christmas crackers that we would put on the boughs and the sugar mice that we were always allowed to eat when we got home. I want to remember walking home, you pushing your bike, Mum pulling her trolley filled with all the goodies and then we would get to Harris's where we would choose our perfect tree, once we'd picked one out you'd load it up onto your bike and we'd take it home and get it decorated just in time for Father Christmas's visit in the night. Thank you for always letting me put the fairy on top. I want to remember the times of just you and I together taking the holly wreathes around to the cemetery to put on your parents grave, that time we spent just the 2 of us meant so much to me, I guess I never really thought about or wondered why that became our tradition. How come Mum and Chris never came too ?
I want to remember the letters that Father Christmas would write to us, always via a type writer and how his signature always looked so much like your handwriting.
How about when you played Father Christmas for Mum's Mother's group Christmas party ? Remember me sitting on your lap, looking down at your feet and exclaiming for the whole world to hear "You're wearing my Daddy's shoes" ? I always wondered why Mum would get a smooch from Father Christmas under the mistletoe at all the Christmas parties, it wasn't until years later that I found out it was you, damn you played the part well, Clement C Moore could have been talking about you in his book "Twas The Night Before Christmas" Your eyes twinkled, you had the dimples and rosy cheeks, the little round belly, you were chubby and plump, you were perfect for the part, thanks for being that Dad that all the other kids wanted,I was the lucky one, you were mine.
Well, after that little trip down memory lane I don't hurt quite so much you left a lot of good memories,you may not be with me physically but you are still very much alive in my memories, it's just working through what I want to house and what I want to discard, I'll keep Christmas, that was the best. From now on Marc gets to do the stocking stuffers and I'll write the Santa letters just like you used to.
I love you Dad, Merry Christmas !!!