White Christmas - Bing Crosby

Second Christmases suck.

What do I mean by that?

This is my second Christmas since my dad died, unexpectedly, two years ago next Saturday. Two years ago, he was here. He was healthier than I had seen him in years. We talked about him coming to see the kids more so they would remember him later, when he was gone. Two years ago we made cookies together, we laughed. We cried. He watched a Kelso basketball game and cried because of how great of students our girls are, not just great athletes. We had a blast. And my girls loved playing with their grandpa Ba.

Last year was the first Christmas without him.

I really thought it would be the hardest... But I had no idea. Last year I expected the grief. I knew opening stockings without him would be hard. That Christmas services without him would feel weird. That I would roll out German sour cream twists and cry at the memory of the year I made them with whole wheat flour and they were gross. And that he still wouldn't let my mom live down the year she made them with sourcream that had chives in them. I hear it was bad, but that was before I was born...

This year has run over me like a train.

I miss him in weird places. I want to call him and tell him the funny stories. To hear him harass me about terrible cooking disasters (raw chicken anyone?) from past Christmases. To hear him sing slightly off key silent night. To watch him watch the girls open presents. To have him "backseat drive" my way through rolling out cookies. To have him insist we drive somewhere to find snow so he can have his "white Christmas" that never ever happens on this side of the state.

I miss you dad. But don't worry. I'll make your cookies. I'll try not to get too many tears in the dough. And my kids will hear all about the stories so they can laugh and learn. And I'll tell them regularly about their awesome grandpa Ba who loved them so much. Don't worry. They'll still remember you.

And here's a "White Christmas" just for you...