The Grief Diet: On the loss of my father

He would have loved singing “Silent Night” by candlelight at the Christmas Eve service. He would have stood next to me. My mother told me that he liked hearing me sing.

He would have heard me read Twas The Night Before Christmas to his lovely granddaughters.

He would have watched me make a pie. His fears . . . well, he would have kept to himself. He would have told me it was really good even if it tasted like pumpkin flavored cardboard.

He would have sat on the big green recliner and listened to music with my husband. The two of them would have had long conversations about jazz.

My daughters would have brushed his hair, asked him questions, and said, “Grandpa, watch this!”

I would have heard my mom say, “BUUUD!” and then watched him roll his eyes. They would have teased each other like they always did.

I would have sat down with him and we would have talked for hours. We’d cover every topic from religion to politics to Bigfoot to ghosts to his childhood to my childhood.

We would have reminisced of Christmases past.

Christmas morning I would have seen him with a cup of coffee in his hand and heard him say, “Merry Christmas.”

We would have watched the Weather Channel and commented on the barometric pressure wondering what storm was looming over the pacific.

I would have seen the smile on his face as my daughters opened their gifts. He would be gleaming because of the joy written all over their little angelic faces. He would have watched them for hours playing with Barbies. It would have brought him back to a time when I was a young girl.

He would have tried to put together anything that needed assembling. He was a regular McGyver. He would have had so much patience with each little plastic gadget.

He would have reminded me of all the times he caught me red handed peaking under the tree.

He would have opened his box of chocolate covered cherries.

He would have thanked me for the socks and shirt I got him for Christmas.

He would have had the ham instead of the turkey.

He would have told me how sweet and smart his granddaughters are and how he is so proud of them.

I would have seen him physically tired and uncomfortable. He would not have complained.

I would have hugged him and told him all the things I should have said.

I would have had to say goodbye. I would tell him I love him, one more time.

Tags: bigfoot, christmas, death, grief, holidays, jazz, loss, turkey, weather channel