Reflections

Christmas has always been a time of reflection for me. It may have something to do with the long winter nights, the dark and the cold. It may be because I have so many fond memories of Christmases gone by, the holidays of my past that I cherish so much.
Whatever the reason, this Christmas was no different.

I have been troubled with insomnia again, and I was up late on Christmas Eve, talking to a friend on the computer (Hi, Corky!).
When it felt as though I could barely keep my eyes open, I shut everything off and sat in favourite chair, took a deep breath and thought of the long ahead of me..

Kayla appeared suddenly, unable to sleep herself. After talking for a few minutes, Kayla produced a three ring binder that I had not seen before.
It was a book of poetry, written many years ago, by my Dad.
I have read some of Dad's poems before, but this binder held some of his most heart wrenching and personal thoughts.
I read one out loud, and it brought tears to my eyes.
It was called
Christmas Without You

The children are sleeping,
Tucked in their bed,
The presents are wrapped,
Round the tree they are spread,
As I sit here in my chair,
In my mind, thoughts go through,
Why am I so sad?
It's Christmas Without You

Morning comes early,
Down the stairs the children run,
They tear open their presents,
To receive them oh what fun.
But their laughter seems distant,
There is something missing, it's true.
You have left us, you're gone,
It's Christmas without you.

Afternoon brings dinner,
I am no cook I have learnt.
The potatoes are soggy,
The turkey is burnt.
Vegetables that are cold,
Ice cream that looks like stew
No wonder we have not eaten,
It's Christmas without you.

Kids going to bed early,
Something is sure amiss,
First they give me a hug,
Then I get a kiss.
Why are their little minds troubled?
The answer I know - I do.
For their Mother was not here,
It was Christmas Without You.

This year, my best gift was that binder of poetry. I have learned so much about my Dad, just by reading his notes.
I had no idea that the divorce has affected him so profoundly. I was so little when my Mother left that I don't remember that first Christmas.

Thanks to that little black binder, I feel as though I know my Dad better, differently, than I did before, almost ten years after he passed away.

I couldn't ask for anything better.

I hope that you all had wonderful holidays, too.

Biddie xx