We hear the bells.

I really care about Christmas this year. I know I already said that kinda sorta on my last post. But now I mean the Christmas spirit. I ended up loving decorating inside and outside with my dad even though it was initially one of the most frustrating tasks in history. Usually I don't help very much-just stand around and bitch about whatever task I'm delegated or sometimes (when I was younger) I wouldn't even participate at all. Bah humbug, right? I know. But this year, seeing as my mom is no longer here to help him, I knew I had to pitch in and adopt a new role/attitude during the holidays. Unfortunately, this was not as easy as I'd hoped. I mean, I thought all we had to do was bring the damn tree upstairs-not ASSEMBLE the entire thing branch by color-coded branch and decorate it. Then, when we got started with the outside stuff, I asked Paul (my dad), "why do people like doing this?! It's awful!!!," as lights hanging from the roof stopped working and the "sugar-coated" light up tree in the front yard cut my hand to shreds every time I tried to replace a branch that fell. He replied, "it's not this part that they love. You're right-this part is not fun. It's the feeling of triumph you get from working as a family/team once you see the beautiful results of all your hard work. It's the end product that makes it all worthwhile." Whatever, I thought. Did I mention my fucking hand is cut? Fast forward to the "end product," and I'm in love. Paul was right. I got really into the whole process and am truly pleased with everything we did. He's real proud, too, which of course makes my day. And I'm pretty sure my mom would be proud of me, too.

We are making sure to include my mom as much as we can in our holiday traditions. He'll make a cemetery visit tomorrow. Three stockings still hang, with a symbolic gift inside my mom's. A sort of strange new tradition has been born as well. My dad got sad the other night while watching one of my mom's favorite movies-It's a Wonderful Life. She loved all that stuff about the angel getting its wings, etc. A few days later while we were looking through ornaments, we found this one and decided to use it every year in honor of my mom:

The fortune cookie looking tag at the top says "this proves your guardian angel is near." Now, my dad and I have never seen this thing before in our lives. Where did it come from? No one knows. I am not one to believe in signs or stuff like that usually. I think these such occurrences often have no real significance except to those personally affected by the tragedy, etc. The grieving conjure up stories to comfort themselves- that they at least experience the soothing idea that their loved one is close by for a moment or so, in some form or fashion. And rationally-I acknowledge that I may be doing the same thing. However, emotionally it feels too real to deny. So, I won't. We miss you, Mom. Merry Christmas.